


Illume (Formerly La Lavango Alportos Vi Malsupren)

by Rhiannoncjs



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexuality, Cullenlingus (Dragon Age), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Esperanto, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Language Barrier, Lesbian Sex, Lyrium Addiction, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Modern Girl in Thedas, Not Canon Compliant, POV Original Female Character, POV Queer Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Cullen Rutherford, Romantic Fluff, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:02:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 45,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22595989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiannoncjs/pseuds/Rhiannoncjs
Summary: A queer Modern Girl in Thedas Cullenmance.And now for something completely different!
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Original Female Character(s), Female Inquisitor (Dragon Age)/Other(s), Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 32
Kudos: 88





	1. Mi Suferas Problemojn

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all,  
> This is my first attempt at writing and publishing *any* fanfic, so bear with me!  
> A note before I jump in here:  
> Ever since Sten griped at me to "Speak the common tongue!" in Origins, I've headcanoned that Common is Esperanto, partially because I have a nerdy sort of fascination with the language. And since my main character is an English-speaking Modern Girl in Thedas, she has to learn the local lingo, right? To that end, I'm assuming that the vast majority of folks who are reading DAI fanfics have played it at least once, so I haven't included translations under the assumption that for the initial scene at least, you'll understand more than the protagonist, and either way, you're along for the ride. If you do want translations, Google does a decent-enough job at it.
> 
> Another thing: in the interest of not spoiling things, I'll be adding tags as I put up chapters. I will *definitely* add trigger warnings as needed, in notes like this one, at the beginning of chapters. Also, I'll be adding a * to each chapter title that includes NSFW content, and a brief summary of the dirty deeds at the beginning of the next, so that anyone who wishes to skip the smut will be able to follow along with the important stuff.
> 
> Any questions, feel free to ask!  
> Feliĉan legadon! (Happy reading!)

The scene: Southern Missouri. For a little while, anyway.

I drove west, turned at the Kum & Go, and got on I-44. KXUS was on the cheap, shitty factory radio of my ‘87 Cavalier, the mellow tones of Fleetwood Mac’s “Dreams” flowing from the single working speaker on the passenger side. I kicked the driver’s side speaker, and it crackled on.

It’s a good day when I catch Fleetwood Mac on the radio.

It was a hot and muggy August day, and although the weather guy on the radio mentioned rain later in the afternoon, I was going to be out of range. I would be signing the papers to buy some land on the western edge of the Ozarks, and I could already see the little cabin I was going to build there. It would be my little weekender home, until I hit my nest egg goal and could quit the factory and go into early retirement. I would raise Angora rabbits, sheep, and alpacas, learn how to spin, and become a proper textiles artist, not just some chick that occasionally sold crocheted hats on Etsy. I’d find me a big, beautiful, curvy wife, and that was it. Everything was looking great- I was working on the good life, one step at a time.

  
  
  


I took the exit for I-49 at Joplin, my mind wandering through the town rather than coming with me on the highway. I had been at my dad’s house in northern Indiana when the 2011 tornado hit. The destruction shown on the television had almost blown me away. I’d narrowly missed being there, having gone home for the break before my summer classes at Missouri State U in Springfield. The town looked pretty great now-

My mind snapped back to my driving as my ears popped. Ahead of me, the sky went from blue, to grey, to… green? Shit. What the hell is that? It couldn’t be a tornado, the season’s over-

A loud noise, like water rushing over rocks, but not. A flash of green, then… darkness.

  
  


My hand  _ really fucking hurt _ .

I came to in darkness, and I definitely wasn’t in my Cavalier.

I sat, kneeling, on my legs, feeling the throb of my blood through every inch of them, the ache of numbness and the cool hardness of rock below me. And then my hand burnt again.

When I was a kid, my brother and I were horsing around near the woodburning stove when my hand slipped and slapped down hard on the hot surface. It hurt like hell, and we cut Christmas short that year to make a run to the emergency room.

That was a cakewalk compared to this pain.

My hand burnt hot and green, and everything in my life came down to that crack as the green light on my hand activated, then stopped. I flexed the hand, and noticed that I was in roughly made arm shackles. That was about the time I started to worry.  Then the door slammed open, and a heavily-scarred woman stormed in, and that’s when I really started to freak out.

"Diru al mi, kial ni ne devas mortigi vin nun. La renkontiĝo estas ruinigita. Ĉiu ĉeestanto estas mortinta krom vi."

Oh,  _ fuck me. _

“Wha- who are you? I can’t-”

"Nur parolu!"

"Ni bezonas ŝin, Cassandra!"

A woman wearing chainmail and shadows stopped the rampage of the scarred woman. They both drew back, conversing in low tones that I couldn’t catch.

“Where am I? Can you understand me? Does anyone speak English?”

They carried on their whispered conversation, shooting me looks that told me they were just about as confused as I was, only in an angrier sort of way. As they spoke, I watched them. They both seemed… familiar. I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

I decided to try another tactic.

“Sprichst du Deutsch? Hablas Español? Parlez vous Français?”

The shadowed woman looked at me sharply, then asked me: “Parles orlesià? Sabeu què va passar a l’encontre?”

Well, fuck me again. I didn’t know much French to begin with, but I don’t think that was it.

“Je ne comprends pas.”

The shadowed woman seemed to consider my words, before muttering again to the scarred woman, who then barked orders at the soldiers standing around me. Two of them hauled me to my feet and removed the shackles, replacing them with rope, and I was marched out into the world.

I was led through what looked like a church to me. As we walked into the light, I noticed that I wasn’t wearing the clothes I had in Missouri. What the hell? Did these freaks strip me while I was out? I’d be damned cold in a skater dress and flip-flops, but I felt nauseated at the thought of someone manhandling me like that. I wore some weird combination of leather and homespun, with a few bits of banged-up metal armor, and boots that were just a hair too big on me.

The smell of frankincense hit me like a sack of bricks when we entered the main cathedral part of the building, and I coughed, nausea rising in my gut like the mercury in a thermometer. In an alcove, a nun in red robes sang a hymn while a small group of people kneeled in front of a statue. And then the huge doors opened, and that strange green light flooded the world.

It was all too damned weird. Everything- all the people, the buildings, the sky, the snow- it was all bathed in green. Everything. The sun seemed to be reflecting the green everywhere. A huge crowd gathered around us as we traipsed through the village. Everywhere I looked, there were people that seemed to hate me. I had trouble watching where I walked, as my attention was taken by the assholes in the crowd, lobbing snowballs at me. One of them had a rock in the middle; it took me  _ weeks _ to get over that shiner.

Eventually, the huts thinned out, and we passed under a wood-and-stone gate to a sea of tents ranging in shades of white, tan, and brown, with a few maroon and olive green mixed in here and there for a lovely pop of color.

An ear-popping crack spread through the air; at the same time, the light on my hand burnt, the pain burrowing down into the very bone, like the marrow was aflame. I found myself on the ground again, and the soldiers hauled me up once more.

We passed a gatehouse onto a bridge, both sides lined with bodies, covered in cloth and stiff. I finally understood what death smells like- there, it smelled of blood, carrion, sweat, and feces. I tried holding my breath, but the smell still overcame me, and I hunched over, adding the stench of vomit to the mix.

I welcomed the scent of woodfire as we hiked the path, grateful that the scent of it cut through the horror of the bridge. People screaming as they ran past me, and then the sky cracked again and the pain knocked me off my feet. The soldiers hauled me up again, and we continued on following the scarred woman.

We were crossing a bridge when something happened- a shooting star made of a vile green  _ something _ hit the bridge, and down we all went. I managed to tuck my chin to my chest like Sensei taught us in Aikido lessons, and survived the fall with no broken bones, just several bruises. Pissed me off, though. Good thing, too, because I needed that fury when a damned monster crawled out in front of me.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck.  _ Fuck. _

Around me, the soldiers were starting to pick themselves up off the ice. I looked around for a weapon. What could I use, with my hands bound? What I saw was… a heavy wooden post, about the size of a baseball bat. No proper weapon. But since  _ something _ was starting to rise from the ice below me, I grabbed it and held it in front of me, hoping I at least looked badass as I died.

The demon rose to its full height- slightly taller than me- and I saw that under its hood, it had no face. Fucking great. It used its not-face hole to scream at me, reaching out to swipe at me- and I hauled back and bashed at it with all my might. It screamed again, louder, and I wondered briefly if a swipe with a stick to its not-face really hurt it that badly, until I noticed the sword sticking out from its chest. The thing poofed into the air like a stupid glittery magic trick, and I was left facing the scarred woman while holding a chunk of wood.

"Liberigu vian armilon, for!" She snarled at me, pointing her sword at my face. Around me, the soldiers also had their swords drawn. It took me approximately half a second to realize what she wanted, and I dropped the stick like it was on fire.

We continued up the hill, the scarred woman and the soldiers fighting monsters, while I tried not to die. I feel very proud to have succeeded.

We sprinted up a ruined stone staircase. 

I should probably tell you a bit about me. I’m a big gal. I work- work _ ed _ \- in a fiberglass factory, so I’m strong, and sort of tough. But I’m tall, and I’m fat, and I’m definitely not used to running up a mountain. Gasping, I barely made it to the top, and I’m pretty certain that a couple of the soldiers were helping me.

At the top were a group of people battling more monsters underneath a green  _ thing _ in the air. The thing popped and crackled like a damned Rice Krispies commercial. Someone grabbed my bound hands, yelling something in my ear, and the hand with the green light on it burst into flame, scorching the fingers on my right hand as it did. Another loud crack, and a bit of green disappeared, the burning in my hand quickly dissipating.

“Fuck! What was that?!”

The man holding my hands started gibbering something, but I couldn’t figure out what… and then I noticed his appearance. The man had  _ sharply pointed ears _ that  _ moved _ as he spoke. As the conversation continued around me, the man’s gaze turned into a glare.

"Ĉu vi neniam vidis elfon?"

"Mi ne pensas, ke ŝi nur parolas."

"Mi vidas."

I realized I was staring, and looked around. There were a handful of soldiers- not including the ones that came with us up the mountain- and a dwarf guy carrying a crossbow. Man, did he look familiar.

I stared at him, instead. He winked at me.

Then it hit me. I looked at the scarred woman, then back to the dwarf, to the woman, to the dwarf.  _ Oh, fuck me sideways. _

A few years ago, a friend loaned me her Dragon Age games for my Xbox 360. I finished Origins, table-flipped DA2 after Anders’ terrorist attack, and didn’t even bother starting Inquisition due to being  _ super pissed _ about having gone through all of DA2 just to become an accessory to terrorism. Not fond of that shit. I also wasn’t super crazy about the interrogation scenes that bookended the acts in DA2.

There’s no way. No damned way! This is some weird, fucked-up sort of dream. You  _ can _ apparently feel pain in a dream, right? Right?!?

I knew who they were. I couldn’t remember the woman’s name, but I could definitely remember-

“Varric Tethras? Hawke?” I asked.

"Nun, kion vi scias, Siker, mi havas admiranton. Ŝi ne povas esti tro malproksima, se ŝi lernis de Hawke," he said to the scarred woman. She made a disgusted noise- no translator necessary for that- and started to drag me by the elbow down the mountain.

We made it past a couple more of those green things in the sky, my companions (jailors) taking care of the demons I did the… thing… with my hand, then a stop at another checkpoint, where the shadowed woman was waiting for us, arguing with an irate monk. The man screamed and pointed at me, then the green thing in the sky, then me again, his face going red from the effort. The scarred woman got up in his face, poking him in the chest like she wished her finger was sharp enough to pierce his flesh.

When she had finished with him, she turned to me, grabbing my hands and quickly (and terrifyingly) cutting the rope that bound me. She then took my glowing hand, pointing at it, then the sky, saying to me, "Ni fermos la burgon. Estos malfacila. Ni ne povas garantii vian supervivon, sed ni certigos, ke vi loĝas tie por atingi ĝin."

She then grabbed a shortsword and small shield from a nearby rack, showing me how to hold them- "Tenu vian ŝildon tiel, kaj vian glavon tiel."

Glavon. Sword? I think that was my first word of Common.

Turning to the group of soldiers, the scarred woman addressed them. "La soldato! Savu ilin per via vivo! Ni devas gardi ilin por fermi la eksedziĝon!”

We made it further up the mountain- huffing and wheezing, in my case- to find another green thing in the sky and a  _ bunch _ of soldiers fighting monsters. The scarred woman sliced a few of them up while dragging me over to the sky thing, and I did the burning-hand-wave thing at it until it went away. As it popped for the last time, a blond man in a fur-lined cape jogged up to us.

The dude with the sharp ears nodded to me. “Fokoj, kiel antaŭe. Vi fariĝas tute regebla ĉi tie."

"Ni esperu, ke ĝi funkcias al la grandaj."

"Sinjorino Cassandra, ĉu ĝi fermis la disigon? Bonege."

Cassandra. Right, that was her name. 

"Ne gratulu min, Komandanto. Tiel faras la kaptito."

Blond dude nodded to me. “Ĉu? Mi esperas, ke ili pravas pri vi. Ni perdis multajn homojn, kiuj venas al vi ĉi tie."

"Ŝi nur ne parolas."

"Tio malfaciligas la aferojn."

"Ĝi faras."

I listened to their conversation, trying to single out words that I could figure out, while studying Blond Dude. Right, if this was a dream about something in the Dragon Age universe, and Blond Dude was just so familiar to me, who was he?

I didn’t have much time to ponder who Blond Dude was, as he quickly turned to help a wounded soldier back to their camp and Cassandra took my elbow to steer me towards a short drop. I jumped down and was hit by the smell of charred flesh. There were dozens of burnt, petrified corpses in grotesque positions around me, and I gagged, horrified at the sight and smell of it all.

As I collected myself, Cassandra guided me along a path, where we met up with the shadowed woman- Leliana! I finally realized- and more soldiers. As we made our way down the crater, I was able to pick out a few more words- templar, magic, and lyrium- the latter of which I figured out as we passed by large red rocks that buzzed unpleasantly and made me feel ill.

A deep, booming voice echoed throughout the crater, followed by my own panicked one, and then ghostly images filled the crater.

“What the hell? LET HER GO!”

"Kuru dum vi povas! Avertu ilin!"

"Ni havas entrudulon. Mortigu ilin. Ne."

The images disappeared in a flash of white light, and Cassandra was on me a fraction of a second later.

"Vi estis tie! Kiu atakis? Kaj la Dia, ĉu ŝi ...? Ĉu ĉi tiu vidado estis vera? Kion ni vidas?" She had me by the front of my shirt, but thankfully Varric and the pointed-eared man stepped in, the latter telling her something.

We jumped down, and Cassandra turned to me, speaking excruciatingly slowly and gesturing. “Provu... resti... ekster.... la... demonoj.” She held up my glowing hand. “Nur uzu vian markon por malatentigi la rompon.”

I took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. I think I understand- you want me to just do the thing with my hand. Okay.”

I walked up as close to the thing in the sky as I could get, and pointed my glowing hand at it. The burning began slowly, ramping up until I could feel it all the way up my arm, then a large crack rent the air. But the thing didn’t disappear. Instead, a  _ giant fucking ogre-like monster _ walked casually out of thin air and giggled like a cheerful schoolgirl at us.

I  _ may _ have pissed my pants. Just a little.

We fought the thing. Or, rather, everyone else fought the thing, and I tried once again not to die. This time it was harder, as the thing- demon?- had huge lightning whips, sort of like a villain in a mediocre superhero movie. I dodged the whips, waving my burning hand to the sky whenever I had a few spare moments to do so relatively safely. 

The sky thing spit out smaller demons. I had lost my shield by that point, but I managed to kill one by hitting it with my sword, baseball-bat style. Totally not panicking at all for that.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Cassandra stab the big demon, which poofed out of existence like the vampires on  _ Buffy _ , and I shoved my hand at the thing in the sky. The burn traveled swiftly down my arm, but rather than stopping, it continued, spreading slowly across my torso, down my legs to my toes, down my other arm, and I screamed as it overtook my head… and then all went black.  



	2. Babilanto

I awoke sometime later, starving and wearing different clothes-  _ again _ \- to a young woman with pointed ears babbling nervously at me before backing out of the hut I was in. Carefully, I stood up, sitting back down on the bed quickly as my head swam, then made another attempt. Steady this time, good. I took a few furtive steps towards a table on the opposite wall, then stopped, listening to the soft rumble of voices outside the door and wondering what to do. That question was answered for me when the door opened and Varric appeared, carrying a flat wooden platter with a large, flat slice of bread piled with a sort of stew and, somehow, two tankards in one stubby hand.

“Bonan tagon, sunbrilo! Kiel vi fartas? Vi estis jam de tri tagoj, mi vetas, ke vi povas manĝi tutan druffalo!”

Cheerfully, the dwarf plopped the platter and tankards on the table, hoisted himself onto the chest next to it, and motioned for me to take the chair. I sat.

“Do! Cassandra pensis, ke mi estos la plej bona homo por komenci instrui vin Komuna, vidante, kiel vortoj estas mia forto.” He picked up the wooden spoon that sat in the stew. “Kulero.”

I repeated the word, indicating the implement.

“Bone! Nun, ĉi tio…”

We carried on like that, Varric pointing out and naming damn near everything in that hut, then quizzing me on each thing. By the end of the day, I could name a dozen things, greet people, and tell them my name. A few hours into it, I began to droop- doing the thing with my glowing hand took a lot out of me. He noticed.

“Vi aspektas elĉerpita. Vi devas dormi. 'Dormi,’” he spoke the last while making the universal “sleep” gesture. I smiled and repeated the word and movement, and he gave me a thumbs up, a “bone,” and patted me on the arm as he walked to the door.

I barely made it to the bed before I was out.

Sometime later, a grumpy man in an ornate robe woke me to make me drink some vile-tasting liquid and left me lying in bed. The lone window, covered with an oiled hide, showed only darkness in the sky, and I closed my eyes again, then opened them, glaring at the rafters as I realized I needed to pee.

The room was relatively well-lit due to the roaring fire the grumpy man stoked, and I could find no chamber pot, so, donning a cloak I found hanging on a rough nail next to the door, I left to find a place to relieve myself.

The place was empty; it must have been very late at night. Twin moons hung above the world, one full and one a waxing crescent, shedding light upon the landscape. I wandered around, trying to remember if I saw any outhouses in any location in  _ Origins _ and wondering if it was socially acceptable practice to piss on a bush next to the building that was obviously the town’s Chantry- assuming, of course, that I wasn’t actually just batshit crazy and about to publicly urinate in a park somewhere in Arkansas.

I eventually wandered to the other side of the village, contemplating if I should look outside the gates for a privy when I heard shouting.

“Ĉesu tie! Identigu vin!”

I continued walking, not realizing the man was shouting at me. I felt a heavy hand clap me on the shoulder and spin me around.

In the light of the moons, I could see a lion embossed on a metal breastplate at eye level. Startled, I looked up- it was the blond man with the furry cape from earlier.

I didn’t realize, up the mountain, how damned  _ tall _ this guy was.

“Kion vi faras ĉi tie? Vi devus esti en lito. Adan diris, ke vi tute ne resaniĝis.”

“Huh? I don’t understand-”

“Permesu al mi montri vin reen al via kabano.” He took me by the elbow and started to lead me back into the village proper. I thought for a moment, then resigned myself to the indignity of doing the universal potty dance to get my intention across.

“Oh. Mi vidas. Tiel ĉi.”

Out the gates he led me, over a small hill, the odor of a public latrine pit hitting me long before it came into view. Turning his back for my privacy, I did my business and hurried back to him, wondering if it was possible to actually freeze my ass off in this cold.

As he left me in front of my hut, I gave him a small bow and a smile as thanks, and he returned both with a “bonan nokton, mia sinjorino.”

The second day Varric came by, he tossed me the cloak I’d used the night before and coaxed me out of the cabin. I was not too keen on leaving it during the day- the memory of the villagers’ reaction to my previous daylight trek through town and the black eye that came of it were still pretty fresh on my mind- so I was not prepared for their new response to my presence. They stopped, they stared, some with their hands over their hearts, and some even  _ bowed _ .  _ In reverence _ .

It was unnerving.

“La homoj de Rifuĝo pensas, ke vi estas heroo,” Varric told me. “La heroldo de Andraste.” The only word I could pull from that- besides Andraste- was Rifuĝo. Refuge.  _ Oh. Fuck me, I’m in Haven. _ A few things clicked into place. The ruined buildings up the mountain… that was the Temple of Sacred Ashes, wasn’t it?

I felt a little bit ill.

No wonder they hated me. They thought I destroyed the temple and the supposed ashes of their prophet.

Well, balls.

I could still see the big green  _ thing _ hanging over the mountain. It was still there, calmer, and my hand didn’t hurt, but it still existed. I hadn’t closed it, merely… pacified it?

“Solas pensas, ke ĝi funkcios la sekvan fojon, kiam ni provos.”

Pensas. Pensive. Thinks? Solas thinks? I couldn’t figure out the rest of it. “Solas?” I asked Varric.

“La kalva elfo apostatas.” Elf apostate? “Kalva?” I asked. “Neniuj haroj,” he replied, running his hand over the top of his head. I ruffled my own short dyed-red hair and it clicked. Bald elf apostate. I gave him a thumbs-up, and we carried on.

After a breakfast of cheese, bread, apples, and ale at the tavern (when  _ didn’t _ these people drink the stuff?), Varric led me out the village gates to what looked like a practice field. A small group of soldiers were sparring and a few others were practicing archery with targets made of what looked like straw and painted burlap. A short distance away, I could see Cassandra destroying a practice dummy made of the same stuff.

Varric stuck me in front of an archery target and went to acquire some bows and arrows. He handed me a bow, and I took an arrow from the quiver on the ground. I had taken a bit of archery in high school… hopefully, some of it stuck.

I pulled back the string and let go. The arrow flopped pitifully to the ground at my feet.

Cheerfully babbling at me, Varric repositioned my feet and showed me how to hold the arrow as I let it fly. After a couple of lame shots, I finally got an arrow close to the target.

Several shots later, I actually  _ hit _ the target. Varric clapped me on the back and handed me another arrow.

I couldn’t sleep.

I’d awoken from a nightmare that just seemed so  _ real _ . I’d been walking through the crater at the Temple, trying not to breathe in the scent of charred flesh, and failing at that. Everywhere I looked, there were bodies- more than I actually remember there being at the time. And every time I turned, or moved my head, or moved my  _ eyes _ , there were more. More corpses in grotesque positions. They multiplied exponentially with my every movement, until I was wading up to my hips in a sea of burnt flesh…

And then they started to grab me.

They didn’t all move, just their hands, but that’s all that was needed. Grabbing, holding on, and then they pulled me down, and I screamed-

And I awoke on the straw mattress, in a small wooden cabin in Haven, my heart pounding in my head.

There was no going back to sleep from that. I just couldn’t get calmed down. So I pulled on my cloak, grabbed a heavy fur from the bed, and went out to find someplace to just relax.

I found myself sitting up against a boulder, snuggled up in that fur, surprisingly comfortably. The sky was bright, but not the sort of bright you’d see in a city; no orange glow to block out the stars. I laid back and stared at a sky I was certain I’d not seen before, constellations unseen by any of my countrymen- or by anyone else on Earth, as well. After a certain age, I’d simply quit caring about the stories written in the stars.

I wondered what stories could be told here.

Lulled by the still of the night, the soft light of the two moons, the chill of the winter air and the warmth of the fur, I found myself drifting off…

...I felt my hand brush up against a cool piece of metal as someone carried me, my face nestled in soft fur…

...the warmth and soft light of my cabin, and the comfort of a bed I was becoming used to-  _ my _ bed…

...to a deep and dreamless slumber.

Day Three of Varric’s language lesson had me meeting everyone in town; by the end of the day, I could not only understand greetings and introductions, but I could also order food and beer at the tavern, which was  _ very _ important, of course.

I also learned a little something about bartering. And that a person can be a cheap bastard in any language, after Seggrit tried screwing me over on some toiletries. I had learned there was a public bathhouse in the village, but I was uncomfortable going- for multiple reasons- and so I had needed the means to wash myself in my little cabin.

That night, I awoke with my heart pounding. I’d had the same nightmare as the evening before. It was starting to piss me off a little.

I grabbed my cloak and the fur and wandered out to the lakeside again. I laid out the fur on a large boulder and perched myself on top, staring out at the frozen lake and contemplating, yet again, my lot in… whatever this was. Was I in a  _ video game, _ for christsake? Seriously?! I thought back to Origins. This didn’t look like the Haven from the game.

“Good evening,” said a soft, deep voice. I turned towards the source. It was Blond Dude.

“Oh, hello,” I replied. My Common was still quite terrible, but I tried piecing together something half-intelligent to let him know I remembered him. “I see you up there, yes?” I said, pointing to the Breach.

“Ah, yes. May I…?” He indicated the fur I sat on. I patted it invitingly and smiled. He climbed up onto the boulder and sat down next to me, our legs stretched out in front of us.

“Lovely night,” he said. I nodded, smiling. “My name is Cullen. I’m the Komandanto of the armeo.”

“Komandanto?”

“I… lead the soldiers.”

Oh. Commander of the army. I let the understanding of it fall across my face.

“I am Sasha.”

“Lovely name.”

Before I could realize it, a look of surprised delight crossed my face and I grinned at my lap. Was Blond Dude  _ flirting _ with me? Then the thought crossed my mind. Cullen. Wasn’t that the templar in Kirkwall-

Oh. Fuck. That was the templar imprisoned in the Ferelden Circle, wasn’t it? The one my human rogue had come across in the magic forcefield.

Apparently he noticed the concern on my face. “What is it?” he asked me, softly. Well, fuck me. Obviously I didn’t want to tell him I knew he’d been tortured by demons as a teenager, even if I had the words to do so. I turned my head to look at him properly, trying to ignore that knowledge I had of him, and instead, gave him a small smile. One that he returned.

What was the word for Templar? For Circle of Magi? I made a circle with my hands. “You,” I said, reinforcing the gesture. He seemed to consider it for a moment.

“Yes, I was a templar,” he told me. “No longer.”

We chatted that way for some time- in stilted sentences, my picking words from the context, and occasionally asking for clarification.

At one point, I yawned, and he patted my hand. “You should get some sleep. Wouldn’t want you to fall asleep out here… again.”

I laughed. “You… you put me in my bed, yes?”

I could see his smirk in the moonlight, but he didn’t answer me. He just slid down off the boulder and gave me a small bow. “Goodnight, my lady.”


	3. Kredo

It’s almost surprising how quickly someone can pick up a language when they become suddenly, fully immersed in it. By the end of my first week in Haven, I could hold a conversation  _ mostly  _ successfully, only tripping up every now and then. I had even started thinking in Common.

One morning, it was Cassandra who met me at my door, rather than Varric.

“Come. There is something we wish to speak with you about in the Chantry.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

We passed through the arched doorway into the Chantry. There appeared to be a new flag hanging over it, and the document nailed to the doorway made me think of Martin Luther’s Ninety-five Theses. “Does your mark trouble you any longer?”

“Not really. I just wish I knew what had happened.”

“As do we all. Hopefully we will be able to learn more about it soon. What’s important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach. You’ve given us time, and Solas believes that a second attempt might succeed – provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by.”

“Oh great, I’ve always wanted to be blown up.”

“Hold on to that sense of humor.”

We entered a small room at the back of the chapel. Three people were standing around a huge table that was covered by a series of maps.

“You’ve met Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces.”

Before I could stop myself, I was smiling at him.

“This is lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.”

“I’ve heard much. A pleasure to meet you at last.”

“And of course you know Sister Leliana.”

“My position here involves a degree of…”

“She is our spymaster.”

“Yes. Tactfully put, Cassandra.”

I decided to try my luck. “Someone said you traveled with the Hero of Ferelden, yes?”

She gave me a surprised look. “I did. It’s no secret, but it’s not common knowledge, either.”

“People say much when they think you cannot understand them,” I told her.

“Indeed they do.”

“Back to the meeting,” Cassandra prodded. “You didn’t speak the language, so I must ask: What were you doing at the Conclave?”

“I know nothing of this Conclave... I am not from around here.”

“We gathered that already,” Cullen drawled.

“I’m from very,  _ very  _ far away. As in, so far away we didn’t know this place actually existed- we thought it was a legend, a story. I… think the Breach brought me here.”

“Well,” Josephine said, brandishing her quill pen. “That certainly makes things  _ much _ more… interesting.”

Cullen’s hand moved to rest on his sword pommel. “Do you know much about current troubles with the mages and the templars?”

“I’ve picked up some things,” I said, slowly. “You kept mages away from the general-” I didn’t know the word for  _ population, _ I realized with a twinge of annoyance, “-people, and guarded by warriors you called templars, then a mage blew up the Chantry in Kirkwall, which set off fighting everywhere- right?”

“That is correct,” Cassandra told me. “The Conclave was called by Divine Justinia- the leader of the Chantry- to try to achieve peace between the two groups.”

“Which obviously failed to happen. Right. So there’s that big  _ thing _ still in the sky, which I can do  _ something _ to with my hand, and we need help to do that thing from-”

“Does that mean you will help us?” Leliana asked.

“Well, I’m here, I have this thing on my hand, I don’t know how to go home and right now, you are the only hope I have for fixing any of that. So, yes, I will help, to the best of my ability.”

“Fantastic!” Josephine waved her pen, smiling.

Nodding her approval, Cassandra told the room, “I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good.”

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help,” Leliana added in.

“And I still disagree. The Templars could serve just as well.”

“Could we get both?” I asked them.

Cassandra answered. “We would need more people-”

“And better facilities,” Josephine cut in. “We barely have enough space for our people as it is. Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition – and you, specifically.”

“That was quick.”

“Shouldn’t they be busy arguing over who’s going to become Divine?”

“Some are calling you – an outlander – the 'Herald of Andraste.’ That frightens the Chantry. The remaining Clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you.”

“Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt.”

“Was he that monk who was screaming at everyone-”

“That’s him, alright,” Cullen smirked.

“Either way, it limits our options. Approaching either group for help is currently out of the question.”

“How am  _ I _ the 'Herald of Andraste’?” I asked, slightly annoyed.

“People saw what you did at the temple, how you stopped the Breach from growing. They have also heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste.”

“Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading–”

“Which we have not.”

Leliana shot Cassandra an annoyed look. “The point is, everyone is talking about you.”

“Fantastic.”

“It’s quite the title, isn’t it? How do you feel about that?”

“I am not fond of it.”

Cullen chuckled. “Neither is the Chantry.”

“People are desperate for a sign of hope. For some, you’re that sign,” said Leliana.

“And to others, a symbol of everything that’s gone wrong,” Josephine added.

“They don’t care about the Breach?”

“They do know that it is a threat, they just don’t think we can stop it.”

“The Chantry is telling everyone that you’ll make it worse.“

“Fuckers,” I swore in English. I could tell by the smirks on Cullen and Leliana’s faces- and the grimaces on Cassandra and Josephine’s- that they got the gist of what I said.

“There is something you can do. A Chantry cleric by the name Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”

“I will talk to her.”

“You’ll find Mother Giselle tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands near Redcliffe.”

“Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition’s influence while you’re there.”

“I’ll try. When do we leave?”

Cassandra frowned at me. “A few days. We will need the time to gather supplies. And you will need to train. It will be dangerous.”

“Come see in me in an hour, Sasha,” Cullen chimed in. “We’ll get you started on that.”

I stood out in the training field, holding a wooden practice sword and trying not to feel silly as one of the most accomplished warriors in this world readjusted my grip for me.

“Bend your knees a little bit- there you are. Now, there are eight basic areas of attack. Here and here-” he used his hands in a ‘chop’ motion on my shoulders- “-here and here-” -sides- “-here and here-” -hips- “-here, and here.” -head and groin, pointing, rather than touching, the latter. “There are five counters for those attacks.” Grabbing his own wooden sword from a snowdrift, he showed me each, waiting as I copied each move. As he spoke, I noticed his words were slower, more pronounced, than how he usually sounded when training recruits.

We practiced defense until lunchtime, Cullen attacking while I blocked, slowly at first, then at an easy pace. At some point, he noticed I was watching his hips, and he directed my eyes elsewhere.

“Watch my elbows. They will give a better idea of where I will attack you.”

“Of course, Commander.” Because obviously, I was looking to see where he was moving to next. Of course.

“There may be some hope for you yet,” he joked as I blocked his next attack.

After lunch, Cassandra took over, putting me in front of a training dummy and showing me how to slice it to bits. I was just starting to really get the hang of it as the sun began to set.

That night, I sat out on the boulder again, and was glad to be joined by the handsome Commander. I didn’t stay long- the previous evenings’ lack of sleep was catching up to me- but I did get an actual laugh from him as I teased him about the lion imprinted on his breastplate and the “mane” on his cloak.

“Rawr,” I growled, grinning and mussing the fur with my hand.

“If you like that, wait until you see the helmet,” he chuckled.

  
  


“Where you come from- do they believe in the Maker?”

It was evening, just before sundown, and I was tired of being stuck in Haven. The  _ Herald of Andraste _ apparently just can’t wander off into the woods by herself, though, so the Commander had insisted on accompanying me, offering his arm, a proper gentleman.

I couldn’t say I was sad about this, exactly.

“Where I come from, we called the Maker by another name- Lord, or Jehovah, or often, just God. But not me.”

“You don’t pray to Him?”

“No,” I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. “My parents did- do. I converted away.”

“You don’t believe as they do?”

“No, I… I don’t. It’s hard to explain, but I found my own way.” I stopped short, grabbing Cullen by the arm, and pointed, whispering- “Look over there!”

Not far from us, sitting in a tree, was a cardinal, its red plumage a spot of joyous vibrance against the white and black of the Haven winterscape. It flitted from branch to branch haphazardly, until Cullen pointed to another branch.

“Look, there’s a female!” he quietly exclaimed.

We watched as the male flitted around the tan-and-brown female, raising one wing high, then lowering it and raising the other, singing loudly excitedly. The female watched him with interest, answering his call. Then, in an instant, they shot up through the sky and away.

“My beliefs… I follow a goddess, named Rhiannon. Birds are… sort of her thing. Whisper your pain to birds, and they take it away,” I told him as I stared at the sky. “I notice the birds around me. Often, they show me things, stuff that’s about to happen to me. Perhaps that is silly, but it brings me comfort.”

He smiled at me. “That is what faith is for.”


	4. *Gaja Radaro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW, y'all.

I threw my knapsack into the back of the wagon and hefted myself up. Settling in next to Varric on a makeshift sofa made of tent canvas, I pulled a book from my bag and cracked it open.

“Andraste’s knickers, kid, couldn’t you have chosen something easier to learn how to read? I think there’s a few children's’ books in the Chantry library,” Varric frowned at the tome as I handed it to him. “A book on the Fifth Blight isn’t going to be beginner level.”

“I am not a child,” I told him, “and Leliana says this is one of the better books on the subject. I want to learn.” More like, I wanted a source for the information I already had in my head, but of course I couldn’t say that. I had a mental checklist of Things I Should Not Say Until I Have Officially Heard About Them.

“Well, she would know, as she traveled with the Hero of Ferelden during the Blight,” Solas said from the passengers’ seat. Bingo, another thing knocked off the Checklist. I had already gotten Cullen’s templar background and a few of Varric’s Hawke stories, but I’d been careful around Leliana, assuming she’d  _ definitely _ notice if I casually threw out a Marjolaine reference. Cassandra was easier, as were most other characters; I didn’t have a lot of personal information about her, having skipped the interrogation cutscenes in DA2, so as long as I didn’t reveal anything about the world that I shouldn’t know, I would probably be okay.

“Please, Varric? I am a good reader in my language. I know I can be a good reader in this,” I begged him. He smiled and began to read as the wagon rolled away, followed by Cassandra and a small contingent of soldiers following us to the Hinterlands.

  
  


_ A letter from Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast to Commander Cullen Rutherford _

Commander:

I am aware that you had asked the Herald to send you reports on our activities in the area, but unfortunately she is not yet able to write in Thedosian. Until such a time as she is able, I will do this task for her.

By my count, we have been away from Haven for almost two weeks, almost half of that spent traveling via the Imperial Highway. Thank the Maker, the roads were clear of bandits. While the Herald’s archery skills have been slowly improving, her swordsmanship is still lacking despite training with her every evening, and I fear the day may come when I am not there to block a serious blow.

We have been assisting the refugees as we can. While Solas and I scouted for supply caches left by the rebel mages, Varric took Sasha out hunting to feed those with empty cookpots in the Crossroads. They came back dragging the carcasses of three rams on a makeshift sled. The Herald had no trouble pointing out the one she shot herself. A local hunter taught her how to skin the carcass and make jerky from the meat, and has promised to show her how to preserve the hide tomorrow. Tonight, our rations were supplemented with a delicious ram stew.

Two days ago, we met with Master Dennet, who would only be persuaded to join us when his lands and tenants are safe. To that end, I have included directions for watchtowers to be built by Inquisition forces. The locations have been marked on the map (included) as well as surveyed and marked in the area. We are also on the lookout for a pack of rabid wolves Mistress Dennet has warned us about.

We did acquire a few horses from Dennet for our own use, and it appears Sasha is a decent rider. She claims she hasn’t been on a horse since she was a child at something called ( _ the following is an English phrase, phonetically spelled in Thedosian _ ) “ **Girl Scout Camp** ” but I wonder if she isn’t being modest. She completed a riding course set up by the horsemaster’s daughter in good time, and needed little assistance in caring for her mount back at camp.

Solas has informed us of the existence of certain Elven artifacts that measure and strengthen the Veil. I will provide more information on these when acquired.

And finally, we have been informed of dragon sightings in the area. We do not plan to seek it out unless necessary, and I will spare you the language used by the Herald upon hearing of the creature.

Maker guide you,

Cassandra Pentaghast

  
  


_ A letter from Commander Cullen to Seeker Pentaghast _

Cassandra:

We have received Mother Giselle and she has made herself useful, not only providing information to contact the Grand Clerics, but as a healer for our wounded, as well. Leliana wishes me to inform you of the possible location of a Grey Warden in the Hinterlands, somewhere south of Fort Connor. His name is Blackwall and he may have information into the disappearance of the Wardens from Ferelden and Orlais. Please seek him out and speak with him at your earliest convenience.

Please for the love of Andraste, do  _ not _ seek out that dragon! If it becomes a problem, we will send Inquisition soldiers to handle it.

We have reports of both templar and mage hideouts in the area. I have sent reinforcements to assist with the removal of their camps; they should arrive within a few days.

I am pleased to hear of the Herald’s horsemanship. At least she has one useful skill to rely on. Tell her she may have some hope yet.

Andraste preserve you,

Commander Cullen

  
  


Those ravens are quicker than some email platforms, I thought. It had taken, what, a few hours round trip for them to fly the messages back and forth?

I sat on a ram skin near the fire, working a drop spindle purchased from a nearby merchant. An elderly refugee woman had shown me how to spin wool into yarn, and I was keeping my eyes peeled for a decent crochet hook. I grinned to myself at remembering the last line read to me from Cullen’s letter; it was a little running joke we’d had going, brought up whenever I had any tiny victory, as one does when learning new skills.

“Tell me about this ‘girl scout camp,’” Solas asked me, “and why you needed it in order to know how to ride a horse.”

“Well… in my world, it wasn’t necessary, really, but few people had horses where I came from. They weren’t how most people got around. As a child, I had a neighbor who had a few, and he let me ride and taught me to care for them, but after he got too old to care for them, he sold them. So, the camp was the only way for me to have that, after.” 

“So how  _ did _ people get around, besides walking?” asked Cassandra.

_ Oh boy, _ I thought.  _ Here comes the ol’ “horseless carriage” chestnut _ .

I got roped into explaining the intricacies of the American car culture to my companions who’d never seen one and likely never would in their lives, and it was late when everyone finally went to bed.  _ Super _ late. And I was more than ready for everyone to go to sleep.

What Cassandra (and, I hoped, the others) didn’t know was that I had been offered a prize for that horse run, and I was about to claim it. The horsemaster’s daughter- Seanna- was beautiful in a sort of severe way, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that gaydar seems to be pretty universal.

I crept across the fields, thankful that we were basically camped across the street from the stables and that the scout on guard duty was a pretty chill sort of bro. The smell of fresh hay and that familiar musty equine scent hit me as I peered into the dark, the soft nickering and movements of the building’s inhabitants as they noticed me was comfortably familiar in a world where many things just weren’t.

Seanna stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight, taking me by the hand with a soft smile on her face. As my eyes adjusted, I saw she was leading me towards a stall-turned-closet with a small bed inside. The door closed and then there was only us, lit only by a small stream of moonlight from a tiny window.

She kissed me, softly at first, then pushed me up against the door and kissed me harder, and I melted.

My hands went to her hips, her bum, grasping and pulling her closer, and she slipped a hand into my breeches, rubbing me against my smallclothes. I moved my hands to her head, pulling her in for another rough kiss, and she trailed her lips across my face and jaw, nibbling my neck as she rubbed my labia against cotton, and she must have felt my excitement, for she whispered, “May I?” against my skin.

I don’t think I was capable of any language at that point, so I simply nodded, and she moved aside my undies and traced a pattern up and down my lips. I gripped her shoulders, involuntarily, as she twirled her finger around my clit, then back down, slipping into me and caressing me in a “come hither” motion as I gasped.

I lost all sense of anything but the sensations of her, fingering me, kissing me… sliding my breeches slowly down my hips and adding her other hand to the mix, rubbing in circles  _ just _ far out enough of my clit to drive me to distraction but not enough to push me over the edge.

I became aware that I was moaning “please, please,  _ please _ ” in her ear, but not aware enough to realize it was in English before she murmured, “What are you saying?” to me. It took me a long moment to remember the words in Common, and as I blatantly begged her, she moved her fingers to that sweetest spot  _ way too slowly _ .

She held me there, my legs barely holding me up, just at the edge for what seemed like forever. Then her finger-fucking turned desperate, hard, and she grazed my clit, and I came so hard there were bright spots over my eyes.

I moaned every spasm into her shoulder, the exquisite torture of it buckling my knees, but Seanna kept me pinned against the door so I wouldn’t collapse. The waves of pleasure slowly abated, and I was left panting into her shoulder.

Eventually, I got my feet back, and she slipped her fingers out of me- the feeling of it sending another wave of pleasure over me- and I grunted “BED” at her. In mere moments I was on my knees, kneeling between hers, with her clothes strewn across the floor.

Let it be known that I give as good as I get, and I was. As she moaned, she threaded her hands through my hair, softly tugging it, tugging me closer. I felt her clamp down on my fingers as I rolled my tongue over her clit, her hips bucking in my face. As she came down, she leaned back, murmuring dreamily, “Wait until I tell my friends I fucked the Herald of Andraste.”

My stomach dropped out. Suddenly, the salty sweetness of her tasted bitter, and I withdrew from her slowly, wiping my mouth.

Then I heard the shouting. The door slammed open, and Seanna’s legs slammed shut, boxing my ears thoroughly. I somehow managed to pull myself up, and came face-to-face with a  _ very _ pissed Dennet, holding a lantern and yelling christ-knows-what at me.

I don’t know how I got around the man, let alone how I got around him with my pants around my ankles, but my companions and the scouts at the camp came awake and to my rescue as I ran across the field, trying in vain to hold my breeches up, with Dennet hot on my heels.


	5. Amikaj Okuloj

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously on La Lavango Alportos Vi Malsupren:  
> Sasha goes to the Hinterlands. She gets caught getting freaky with Dennet's daughter, and the horsemaster is *NOT* happy about it. Cue running across the heath holding up her britches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I started a playlist for this fic- many more songs will be added as chapters go on. There will be some good tunes to come!  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLcnFkkrOwQeQpMmKj_jKIzfoVAnvay70Q
> 
> A short chapter but hopefully good? Quality over quantity!

“What were you _thinking_? We needed those mounts! Now we’ll be lucky if Dennet will even _speak_ to us!”  
I sat on a chair in the war room, stony face burning, as a grown-ass man bitched me out like I was a child. Behind him, Leliana kept up her poker face, while Cassandra, who had let me know her displeasure the entire ride back to Haven, didn’t bother to hide her disapproval. My only respite was that Josephine was apparently attempting to salvage the situation with diplomacy- how, I had no idea- and had elected to do so at her own desk.  
I didn’t bother answering Cullen. He wasn’t looking for an answer, anyway, and I didn’t know if I could even speak out of embarrassment. I couldn’t follow everything the man was yelling at me, but the gist was beyond clear.  
He rubbed his temples, grunting in frustration, and I took the opportunity to ask, “Are you done?”  
“Am I-” he started, then stopped, visibly sagging. “Yes. Dismissed.”  
I folded my arms around myself and swept out of there with as much dignity as I could scrape up. I could feel my face beginning to crumple as hurried past Mother Giselle, and tears were beginning to slide down my cheeks as I made the last steps to my cabin. Barring the door with the chair and wishing desperately that someone would _give me the damned key_ to the lock, I grabbed the bear fur off my bed and crammed myself into the small space under the table, and cried out the anger, the frustration, the hurt of the past few weeks, until I fell into oblivion.

“Herald?”  
“No,” I mumbled.  
“Herald?”  
“My name isn’t Herald,” I mumbled again.  
“Herald?” This time, it was louder. Startled, I sat up too quickly, smacking my head against the underside of the table. “ _Fuck me_!” I cursed, in English. Crouched in front of me, sans armor, was the Commander, looking decidedly less pissed.  
He was the only one in the room to feel that way.  
“What do you want?” I snapped at him.  
“I came to let you know that Josephine worked it out with Dennet. We’ll be getting those mounts, and the man agreed to join us as well.”  
“Great.” I wrapped the fur around me, obscuring my face, eyes barely peeking out.  
“Herald-”  
“My name isn’t Herald!” I snapped again. Looking suitably chastised, Cullen rolled back from the crouch onto his bum, crossing his legs pretzel-style.  
“Sasha,” he said, gently, “will you come out? I wish to speak with you, properly.”  
“No.”  
“Please, Sasha-”  
“What happened to the chair?”  
“The chair?”  
“I stuck it under the door handle. I don’t have the key to the lock, and I wanted to be left alone.”  
“I- it’s still there, Leliana thought I should speak to you-”  
“I have heard enough of your speaking, thank you.”  
“I- I know,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I am sorry. Truly. I reacted to a situation that was humiliating enough for you as I would if I were your superior officer- and likely _over_ reacted, at that- when you are not my underling. You are my colleague. Forgive me.”  
“‘Colleague’?” I still needed clarification on some words.  
“My equal.”  
“Oh.”  
I broke.  
Old terrors I had long thought squashed into the void came rushing to the forefront of my mind, aided by recently added fears, heartbreak, and exhaustion. I crumpled into a sort of odd fetal position, still vaguely wrapped in the dark fur, my face pressed against the dirty stone floor, and I sobbed helplessly.  
I don’t know how long I lay there, but I do know that when I finally came up for air, Cullen was still sitting there. Suddenly, the small space under the table was _too_ small, and I crawled out, plopping myself against the table leg and pulling the fur close around me, my own legs crossed like his.  
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, scooting a little closer.  
I thought for a moment. Did I? Where would I even start?  
My eyes wandered over to a stuffed ram’s head, mounted to the wall.  
“That,” I said, pointing to it. “That’s all I was.” When he gave me a questioning look, I held up my glowing hand. “I can handle embarrassment. I can do that, I’ve done it to myself a lot. I’ve never had to run away from someone’s angry parent while holding my own clothes, but I can handle that, too. But she told me, ‘Wait until I tell my friends I fucked the Herald of Andraste,’ and then I knew that’s all I was. That,” I pointed again to the ram.  
“You were a trophy,” he supplied the word, gently.  
“Yes. And it is a feeling I know well, maybe not as a trophy, but as a not-person. And not-persons cannot make mistakes. They must always live up to the expectations. ‘Be a copy of your mother, exceed her. Be a cache for your father’s thoughts, and believe as he did. Be something for your grandparents to brag about, be a doll for your aunts and uncles, be a good role model for your brother, your cousins.’” I took a deep breath. “‘Be the Herald of Andraste, the voice of a savior you don’t believe in, of a religion you were never taught, never knew.’ I am not a person, I am a symbol, and when I fall, _I fall far_.”  
I closed my eyes and let my head fall back gently against the table leg. I heard a rustling of fabric, and felt Cullen carefully take my hands into his own. Wearily, I opened my eyes and lifted my head, and found that he was sitting directly in front of me, our knees almost touching, and he was looking intently into my eyes.  
“I cannot change how others see you,” he said, softly. “I can order the soldiers at the camp to keep what they saw to themselves, but I can’t change their perceptions of their heroes. What I can tell you is this: you are free to be human around me. You can fail, and I- we will catch you.”  
As he spoke, I watched his eyes.  
I’ve never been an “eyes” sort of person. Looking into another’s is usually rather uncomfortable for me. It’s because of this discomfort that I could not tell the eye colors of the people I am closest to- not my family’s, not my friends’, nobody’s. I know my own eye color, and that’s it.  
But there was… warmth… in his eyes. Like amber running down the trunk of a tree, copper glowing in the sun. I didn’t feel unsettled, looking into his eyes.  
I felt safe.


	6. La Nestego de Serpento

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else turned on by Cullen's argument with Roderick in front of the Chantry? Anyone? Anyone? (Bueller? Bueller?)

“Your kind killed Most Holy!”

“Lies! Your kind let her die!”

Balls. I hadn’t been back in Haven for a week, and these jackasses were at it again. Too often I would walk by a group of them squabbling over something silly, like who would enter Haven’s gates first (they both could) or who would have to wait to bathe (it’s a public bathhouse that was big enough to fit  _ all _ the Inquisition’s mages and templars together, if they so wished). They were in front of the Chantry, so my best guess was “who’s turn it was to pray” that started the fight.

“Enough!” The Commander stepped in, pulling the two squabblers apart.

“Knight-captain!”

“That is  _ not _ my title.We are  _ not _ templars any longer! We are  _ all _ part of the Inquisition!”

That annoying monk was back, parting the crowd like Moses’ asshole brother. “And what does that mean, exactly?”

“Back already, Chancellor? Haven’t you done enough?”

“I’m curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its ‘Herald’ will restore order, as you’ve promised.”

“Of course you are. Back to your duties, all of you! You and you-” he pointed to the troublemakers- “-latrine duty, two weeks. Report to the quartermaster.”

Grumbling, the crowd dispersed. Ignoring the thumping of my heart- which was  _ obviously _ due to Roderrick’s bullshit and had not a damned thing to do with how sexy Cullen looked breaking up a fight- I approached the doors of the Chantry-

“Order will never be restored as long as this rebellion is allowed to fester!”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Remind me why we’re allowing the Chancellor to stay?” I gave the man what I hoped was a withering look.

“Clearly your  _ templar  _ knows where to draw the line.”

Gag.

“He’s toothless. There’s no point in turning him into a martyr just because he runs at the mouth.”

Turning my back to Roderick, I muttered to the Commander, “You’re a better person than I am,” and gave him a smile before heading into the building.

  
  


“You can’t be serious!”

“Mother Giselle isn’t wrong. At the moment, the Chantry’s only strength is that they are united in opinion.”

“And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?”

“I do wish you wouldn’t call me that,” I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “But, I understand, and she’s right- though I wish she wasn’t.”

“I will go with her,” Cassandra added in. “Mother Giselle said she could provide us names- use them.”

“But why? This is nothing but a farce-”

“What choice do we have, Leliana? Right now we can’t approach anyone for help. Use what influence we have to call the remaining clerics together. We’ll set out for Val Royeaux tomorrow at first light.” With that, Cassandra strode out of the room, Leliana and Josephine following shortly behind her. Cullen hung back.

“Don’t let anyone riot while we’re gone,” I joked.

“The walls will still be standing when you return- I hope,” he drawled right back at me.

I smiled at him as I turned to leave.

“Sasha, wait.” In a few long strides he was around the table, standing in front of me. “It will be dangerous.”

“I know.”

“In more ways than you know. Be on your guard. Keep someone from the Inquisition with you at all times- preferably, Cassandra. If someone tries to rob you, throw your purse at them and run-”

At that one, I laughed. “We’re told to do that back home.”

“It’s good advice. Please,” he grasped my hands, “take this seriously.”

“Cullen,” I said, squeezing his. “Do you really think I don’t? I know this isn’t some kind of game. My life is on the line, as is everyone else’s.”

I watched the concern on his face relax a little. “Forgive me. I think the Chancellor has me a little wound up.”

Giving him a smile and his hands another squeeze, I let go and turned to leave, but was stopped again by his “Wait.”

Pulling something from what I belatedly realized was a hidden pocket in his cape, he pressed a small bundle into my hand. Unrolling it, I saw it comprised of two pairs of gloves- black and white- and a small skeleton key.

“I’m told that’s the only key that exists for your door,” he told me. My jaw dropped.

“I- um-” I cleared my throat. “And the- the gloves?”

“Should block the light from your mark.”

As tears welled up in my eyes, he continued. “Hopefully they will allow you to walk through the world a little more… normally, for the time being, anyway.”

I slid my glowing hand into a glove, and no green showed through the black leather.

“How-” I fought to keep from bursting into tears. “How did you know how big they should be?”

He smiled. “I held your hands, of course, in your cabin.”

Well, that did it.

With a sob, I threw my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He seemed a bit… taken aback by it, but eventually wrapped his arms around me, returning the embrace. I sobbed for a few long moments, then, impulsively, kissed his cheek as I pulled away from the hug.

He blushed. He  _ actually blushed _ .

Stammering out something about work to do, he quickly left the room, and I took a moment to put myself to rights before following him.

  
  
  


I stood in the center of Val Royeaux, sweating all the way through my gambeson and the cloak it was hidden under, and feeling a bead of moisture rolling down my face under my mask.

Upon hearing that the Templar Order was in attendance, we had devised a plan: Gather Inquisition troops and scouts, as many in civilian clothing and plain masks over their armor as possible, and disperse them through the rather large crowd that had gathered to hear the Chantry clerics trash us.

Varric tugged on my cloak, alerting me to his presence; his rejoining the group was the signal that the troops were all in place and ready to boogie, should boogie-ing be necessary. Behind me, I heard Blackwall grunt; he’d been complaining earlier that the simple half-masks we wore had been snagging on his beard, so he was likely thankful we were about to make our entrance.

Varric nudged past the group in front of us who stepped aside, leaving us a lane to walk through; ahead of them, the crowd parted to give us a straight shot to the stage that had been set up for the Revered Mothers.

“Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me! Together we mourn our Divine, her naive and beautiful heart silenced by treachery!”

Well, that seemed about as good a cue as anything. Mustering up every bit of confidence I could, I stepped forward, allowing my cape to part to show the Inquisition symbol on my breastplate and lowering my hood. As I approached the dais, I held up my glowing ungloved hand and removed my mask, staring down the Mother atop it.

“You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more.”

“I am no murderer,” I called out to her. She ignored me.

“Behold, the so-called Herald of Andraste, claiming to rise where our beloved fell. We say this is a false prophet, no servant of anything beyond her selfish greed!”

“Enough of these lies! You ignore the real threat, the hole in the sky. Put aside this foolishness and help us close the Breach!” My voice rang out clearer than I thought it would. On the stage, a young templar standing behind the clerics watched me, his face searching mine for the truth. Cassandra stepped up to my side, adding to my plea.

“The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it is too late!”

Looking smug, the Mother pointed dramatically to the side, proclaiming, “It is already too late!”

A large contingent of templar soldiers surrounded the stage, while an older man mounted the steps- presumably, the Lord Seeker.

“The Templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this ‘Inquisition,’ and the people will be safe once more- ahh!”

The Mother crumpled as the templar who hit her stepped around and away from her. I dropped the mask and hopped up onto the short platform, crouching in front of her. “Someone get a healer! Mother, are you hurt?”

“Get away from me, blasphemer,” she hissed at me.

“It isn’t blasphemy if you do not believe,” I told her as I stood. If she was well enough to insult me, then she obviously didn’t need my care. Turning, I followed the Lord Seeker as he stepped off the dais. “How dare you!”

The Lord Seeker didn’t stop. “Her claim to authority is an insult- much like your own.”

Cassandra moved to intercept him, calling out as she did. “Lord Seeker Lucius, it is imper-”

“You will not address me.”

“Lord Seeker?”

“Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste’s prophet. You should be ashamed. You should all be ashamed! The Templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages! You are the ones who have failed! You who would leash our righteous swords-”

I’d had enough of this asshole’s monologuing. “Templars! The former Knight-Captain of Kirkwall commands the Inquisition’s forces. Join us, as Ser Cullen did! Help us put the world right again!” 

A few templars murmured amongst themselves, but the Lord Seeker laughed in my face. “Such a loyal member of the Order, he abandoned his comrades to follow a fake, a false prophet, and an outlander, no less,” he spat at me.

“But Lord Seeker,” the young templar from the stage jumped in. “What if she really  _ was  _ sent by the Maker?”

“You are called to a higher purpose.” This was from the templar who punched the Mother. I noticed his eyes were… really, really red. “Do not question it!”

“You have shown me nothing, and the Inquisition, less than nothing. Templars!” called out the Lord Seeker. “Val Royeaux is  _ unworthy _ of our protection! We march!”

The templar from the stage hung back a moment, looking as if he were about to disobey orders…. Then he, too, turned and left with the rest of his fellows. I turned to Cassandra.

“Has the Lord Seeker gone mad?”

  
  


_ A letter from the Herald of Andraste to Commander Cullen. It is peppered with misspellings, misshapen letters, and random splotches of ink. _

Cullen,

I beg your pardon for the state of this letter. I hoped to help Cassandra with reports to practice my writing, and I only hope that my words are, at least, readable, if not pretty.

We have met with the Revered Mothers in Val Royeaux, and the results were… interesting. Unfortunately not in a good way. Cassandra is putting it all in her letters to Josephine and Leliana, and I have little desire to relive the last day so soon, so if you wish to be depressed, I suggest you pester them for details. Suffice it to say, I do not think we will be able to talk the Templars into joining us.

On a better note, we have picked up a number of helpers. A foodstuffs merchant will be in Haven in a few days. That should help morale, yes? We have also picked up… let’s just call her something between a fighter and a court jester. Also, an uptight Circle mage. She seems powerful, but I get the distinct feeling she needs us more than we need her. The more the merrier, right?

We are on our way to the Storm Coast to look into a mercenary group that seems promising, then we will head to Redcliff. The former Grand Enchanter, Fiona, has invited us to speak with them. Shortly thereafter, we will be back  ~~ home ~~ at Haven to discuss the next steps.

Again, my apologies for the state of this letter… We had different pens where I came from, and I am not used to writing with a quill. I will practice when I can. I am grateful for your patience in this.

Be well,

Sasha

_ A letter from Commander Cullen to the Herald of Andraste. _

Sasha,

I wouldn’t count the Templars out just yet. I have received word from one Ser Delrin Barris, a Knight of the Order who was apparently moved by your words in the Capital. He has asked for our assistance in reasoning with the Lord Seeker, who has moved the entire order to an abandoned keep called Therinfall Redoubt. That is concerning, and I must insist we follow up with Barris.

I am pleased that you are picking up more assistance, even as motley as your group seems to be becoming. Though your swordsmanship has gotten better, I do still worry about your safety. I am also worried that the invitation to Redcliff may be a trap.  Please, be careful . We know the mages are desperate, and we don’t yet know if they are behind the murder of the Divine.

Regardless, I will send orders to have fresh clothing available to your whole party to the Inquisition camp nearest Redcliff. You’ll need them, after the Storm Coast. And upon your return to Haven, should you wish, I would be willing to show you some tricks to writing with quills, if there is time available.

Maker keep you safe,

Cullen

  
  



	7. Famaj Lastaj Vortoj

“So, Boss… that redhead in the last tavern?”

I folded up the letter from the Commander and set it aside. It hadn’t taken long for me to figure out Bull’s shtick. He was very much an open book when it came to matters of sexuality, which was equal parts refreshing, annoying, and humorous. I could already tell where he was going with this.

“You know she wanted to spend some  _ quality _ time with Andraste’s Herald.”

“Yes, and that’s exactly why I did not,” I told him, pointedly.

“Not into a little hero worship?”

“Not into being a conquest, something to brag about,” I spat. “A trophy.”

“Seems I touched a nerve.”

“Lay off her, Tiny,” Varric sat across the campfire from me, cleaning some gunk off Bianca. “She’s got it bad for the Commander, anyway.”

“ _ Really _ , Varric?”

Bull grinned at me. “Didn’t hear you deny it.”

“Fuck me,” I swore in English, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Right, let’s nip this in the bud. He’s not interested in me. We’re  _ friends _ and  _ we work together _ and we have this shit to deal with,” I waved my glowing hand up. “I’m from another damned world, and who knows what’s going to happen when we close the Breach. I could be sucked in and sent back to where I came from, for all we know.”

“So you’re not planning on gettin’ any more while you’re here?” Bull asked innocently.

“ _ No. _ ”

“You could ask Solas to take you to the Fade with him,” Blackwall sniggered. From across the camp, Solas yelled, “Ass!”

“Damnit, Blackwall, I could have gone my  _ whole damned life _ without hearing that,” I grumbled at him. “Right, I’m going to sleep. We’ll be in Redcliffe tomorrow- I’ll need my wits about me, since you gentlemen don’t seem to have any.”

As I walked to my tent, I heard Blackwall ask, “Did she just call us idiots?”

  
  
  


I was falling, but I was falling  _ really, really  _ slowly. Or, at least, that’s how it felt. And then I landed on my ass outside of the slow-mo bubble I had been in, and time sped back up.

I staggered to my feet as Cassandra shanked a Terror and it poofed into dust, and I pointed my glowing hand at the rift and closed the damned thing.

“What the  _ hell _ was that?” I gasped out, hands on my knees.

“We don’t know what these rifts can do. That one appeared to alter time around it.” Cassandra sheathed her sword and walked calmly toward the lifting gates.

“The Veil is weaker here than in Haven,” Solas said. “And not merely weaker, but altered in a way I have not seen before.”

“Your Worship,” a scout dropped to one knee in front of me. “We’ve spread word the Inquisition was coming, but you should know that no one here was expecting us.”

“Not even Grand Enchanter Fiona?”

“If she was, she hasn’t told anybody. We’ve arranged use of the tavern for the negotiations.”

“Agents of the Inquisition, my apologies!” A blond elf man approached us- our welcome wagon, apparently. “Magister Alexius is in charge now, but hasn’t yet arrived. He’s expected shortly. You can speak with the former Grand Enchanter in the meantime.” He turned, giving us a look that showed he expected us to follow.

As we walked through the village, I couldn’t help but compare the real-life thing to the game version. It was so  _ different _ . I could see all the pieces, but they weren’t in the right spots. The windmill, the castle, the tavern, the chantry, the docks. They were all there, but not where they should have been.

I shook my head, trying to clear the thought, and entered the tavern.

  
  
  


“Fascinating! How does that work, exactly?”

I gulped down a potion and felt the gash on the side of my neck start to close up- which, by the way, is a  _ damned weird thing to feel _ \- eyeballing the dandy with the handlebar ‘stache in front of me.

“You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and boom! Rift closes.”

This was the strangest damned trap I’d ever walked into.

“Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?”

“Another Tevinter. Be cautious with this one,” Cassandra murmured to me as she moved closer to my side.

“Suspicious friends you have here,” Dandy Mage said. “Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable- as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Right, so tell us why you’re betraying him?” As charming as this dude was, I wasn’t actually entirely sold on him. After all, my only interactions with Tevinters had to entirely with slavery.

“Alexius  _ was _ my mentor, meaning that he’s not any longer. Not for some time. Look,” he told me, quietly, the smile dropping from his face, “you must know there’s danger. That should be obvious even without the note. Let’s start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the mage rebels out from under you. As if by magic, yes?”

“He- what- traveled here magically?”

“Not quite. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself.”

“You  _ have _ to be joking.” I put my hands on my hips, annoyed.

“That is fascinating, if true, and almost certainly dangerous.” Solas sounded a little like a kid in a candy store. It was… concerning.

“The rift you closed here? You saw how it twisted time around itself, sped some things up and slowed others down.” Damnit. I thought of my slow-mo fall earlier. “Soon there will be more like it, and they’ll appear further and further apart from Redcliffe. The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it’s unraveling the world.”

“You’re… certain of this?” He did look pretty serious. I was starting to buy into it a little.

“I know what I’m talking about. I helped develop this magic. When I was still his apprentice, it was pure theory. Alexius could never get it to work. What I don’t understand is why he’s doing it. Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?”

“He didn’t do it for them.” Alexius' kid stepped from the shadows.  


“Took you long enough! Is he getting suspicious?”

“No,” Felix replied. “But I shouldn’t have played the illness card. I thought he’d be fussing over me all day.” Turning to me, he continued. “My father’s joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves ‘Venatori.’ And I can tell you one thing: whatever he’s done for them, he’s done it to get to you.”

“I’m flattered.”

“Well, you know you’re his target,” Dorian added. “Expecting the trap is the first step in turning it to your advantage. I can’t stay in Redcliffe. Alexius doesn’t know I’m here, and I want to keep it that way.”

“You’re welcome in Haven, if you wish.”

“Thank you. I may take you up on that offer. Felix? Try not to get yourself killed.”

“There are worse things than dying, Dorian.”

  
  
  


_ A letter from the Herald of Andraste to Commander Cullen. _

Cullen:

Heads up: We’ve got a bunch of people coming to Haven. Most are Tranquil- you won’t believe what these Tevinter bastards are doing to those poor folks- and one mage by the name of Dorian Pavus. I recommend keeping half an eye on him, but otherwise, I’m pretty certain he’s on our side. There are also a bunch of recruits coming from the Crossroads, care of Corporal Vale.

The situation is really, really bad here. We’ll be heading back to Haven ourselves in a short while to discuss a plan. Suffice it to say, we will be _rescuing_ the mages. We will discuss recruiting Templars soon, but to leave Redcliffe as it is would be a major mistake.

Sasha

  
  


I handed the note to the scout minding the crows, and watched her tie it to the bird’s foot before it flapped off. Turning to Cassandra, I told her, “Come with me. I need to see something.”

We climbed the hill to the windmill. I had to know.

“Leliana fought in the Blight, did she not?” I asked her, at the top of the hill.

“She did.”

The windmill had been destroyed, only one side of it still standing, overlooking Redcliffe Castle. From our vantage point, I could see the docks; Connor was still standing there, I could see him. I felt sorry for the kid; what had happened had been a game for me, but a horrible reality for him. And I had asked him to relive his nightmare, so I could get every detail possible of the real-life castle, the real-life hardship of his possession.

“Alexius has taken up residence in the castle. I don’t know much about fortifications, but that keep looks difficult to get into.”

So when Connor had mentioned the secret tunnel, I knew I had to look, just to make sure it was still there.

I got on my hands and knees, digging out the rubble that covered the ground in the ruins of the windmill. Cassandra joined me, and we dug until we hit wood.

I knocked on it. It sounded hollow.

“Right. I think I’ve got what I need. Let’s head back to Haven.”


	8. Ĉit

“This plan is  _ horribly _ dangerous. I cannot allow it!”

Cassandra and I had ridden hard to get back to Haven in record time, only to spend  _ too damned long _ duking it out in the War Room, even after a plan had been decided on. The plan was risky- to me, especially- but with Dorian’s help, I felt the risk was acceptable.

The only one who wouldn’t sign off on it was Cullen.

“Cullen-”

“Sasha!”

“Right!” I lost my patience. “Will everyone please excuse us? The  _ commander _ and I need to discuss this  _ privately _ .”

With surprised looks and a few mutterings, the group left us, Cassandra giving me a nod before shutting the door behind her.

I walked around the table, leaning against it in front of him.

“Cullen, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“The risk is not worth it. I’d much rather we go get the Templars- even with Lord Seeker Lucius’ brand of madness, it’s a safer bet.”

“I understand that. But this is important to me. Cullen, there are  _ children _ there. Look-” I rubbed my temples. “There was a war, where I came from, about twenty years before I was born. One side used children- they’d strap bombs to them and send them to the other side. The soldiers receiving these children would see refugee kids and take them in, only to be blown up.”

The look he gave me was… rough. “And you think this is their intent?”

“I think that man willing to cause  _ time-altering rifts in the Fade _ to get to me is going to do whatever he thinks will work, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he did something similar. But more than that, those children do  _ not _ deserve this. They deserve to have a childhood.”

“I agree. But I’m not confident you’ll be able to fight your way out of there if it all falls apart.”

“Thanks for that.”

“That’s… not what I meant.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your fighting skills are better, but you will be surrounded by these Venatori, in a place they’ve grown accustomed to, with only a small party to accompany you. You’ll be on  _ their _ home turf.”

“I understand.” A humorless chuckle escaped me when I thought of Haven, of Redcliffe, how both were so different from what I’d seen in…  _ I have to stop thinking of that. _ “Right, so how do we level the field? We’re going up against mages… can we take some templars with us?”

“Send them in with Leliana’s agents- they can dampen Alexius’ magic before he even knows they’re there.”

“Should we put them in the same armor the spies wear? So they’ll be quieter?”

“Perhaps- let’s discuss it with Leliana and the rest.”

I nodded, giving him a big smile and turned to let the others back into the room.

“One more thing.”

I turned back to him. There was a steely, hard look to his features.

“I’m going with you.”

  
  
  


“You are a mistake. You should never have existed.”

The words rang through my head as I struggled to breathe- and then we were in water, and there were Venatori standing over us.

“Blood of the Elder One!”

“Where’d  _ they _ come from?”

I just barely managed to fire off an arrow into the shoulder of the one running at me while Dorian encased his in a block of ice. I pulled my sword from its sheath, but it turns out I didn’t need it; the idiot I fought tripped, and I stood on his back as he drowned in the waist-high water. Ignoring the gurgling, I watched Dorian apply heat to his guard-sicle; watching someone else commit murder left a better taste in my mouth than focusing on my own homicides.

The dude Dorian nuked split open and began to leak. Likely, he was still frozen in the middle. I nervously giggled and sang the Hot Pockets theme song softly as a means of coping with the bile rising in the back of my throat. Dorian looked at me as if I grew a third arm.

“My, you  _ are _ a strange one. Oh, look! You got some guard on your lovely dragon armor, that will leave a stain.” I stared at him as he flicked some bloody gunk off my shoulder. “Displacement. Interesting. It’s probably not what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us… to what? The closest confluence to arcane energy?”

“Uh…  _ what _ ?”

“Alexius was casting his spell, then the templars started in with their magic-dampening fields…”

“This… sort of looks like the castle, yeah?” Real smart there, Sasha.

“Let’s see… if we’re still in the castle, it isn’t… Oh! Of course! It’s not simply where- it’s when! Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time!”

“That’s… uh…” How do you say “rad” in Common? Come to think of it, I hadn’t yet figured out how to say “holy shit,” either. “So… forwards? Backwards? How far?”

“Those are  _ excellent _ questions. We’ll have to find out, won’t we?” 

  
  


“Andraste’s sacred knickers. You’re alive! Where were you? How did you escape?”

Varric looked like hell and he glowed like a lava lamp, but now probably wasn’t the time to tell him that.

“We didn’t escape,” Dorian explained as he used the key we pulled from the nuked Venatori’s pocket. “Alexius sent us into the future.”

“Everything that happens to you is weird.”

“I think you may be right about that.”

“I’m always right. And when I’m not, I lie about it.” I chuckled, but put a lid on it real quick, for fear of losing control of it. “So what  _ are _ you doing here? Or did you come back just to trade quips with me?”

“We need to find Alexius,” I told him, spying Bianca hanging from a hook on the wall. “Can you fight?”

“You want to take on Alexius? I’m in. Let’s go.”

  
  


“You’ve returned to us. Can it be? Has Andraste given us another chance?”

Cassandra looked less ill than Varric, and she glowed less, too, but if the otherwise silent tears streaming down her face were any indication, she took it harder than the dwarf did.

“Maker forgive me, I failed you, I failed everyone-”

“Cassandra.” My stomach churned. “Get up. Please. It’s me, I’m alive, and we’re going after Alexius. We… we can undo this. Make it so this never happened.”

Cassandra nodded, and picked up her sword and shield from where they were laying off to the side, and we carried on.

  
  


We found Fiona. What was left of her, anyway. She was almost entirely encased in red lyrium.

Celene assassinated, an army of demons, the ascension of the Elder One, all in a year. It didn’t seem possible.

We put Fiona out of her misery. A dagger to the throat was a much better way to go than slow death by red lyrium.

We then set out to find the rest of our group.

  
  


We found Leliana in the middle of her torture session, hanging in shackles from the ceiling. The sight of her was horrifying, and jarring; rather than be corrupted with the tainted lyrium, she looked like a corpse.

Watching her kill a man with her thighs was almost more terrifying.

She dismissed the nauseated look on my face with a phrase.

“Come. The Commander is close. Let’s find him, and then find Alexius.”

I almost expected to find Cullen in a more extreme situation than Leliana- on the rack, or hanging by his thumbs, or in an iron maiden. I could only thank the powers that be that he was in simple chains, connected to the wall. He was slumped over, wearing only breeches and a torn shirt, and beyond what looked like several wounds newly healed and a hell of a lot more  _ very, very  _ curly hair, he looked almost as he did last time I saw him.

But something wasn’t right.

“Cullen,” I walked slowly to him as he looked up at me.

“Not this again,” he growled, hatred flashing in his eyes. “Begone, demon! Stay away from me!”

“Cullen, it’s me, look at me,” I said as evenly as I could. Terror flitted across his face, and I stopped about a foot from him.

He scrunched up his face and shook his head, then his eyes snapped open and stared at me before he bellowed, “BEGONE! You did not break me then and  _ you will not break me now! _ ”

Carefully, I took his face in my hands, and he fought me as best as a man without use of his limbs could. I held his face still and told him quietly, as clearly as I could, “Cullen. It’s Sasha.  _ Look at me _ . I did not die. I am not a demon. Dorian and I were sent into the future  _ by accident _ .” As I spoke, he slowly stopped fighting me, and slowly started listening. “We are going after Alexius. We may be able to keep this world from happening. We may be able to stop the Elder One.  _ But we need your help.  _ **_I_ ** need your help.”

I started listing off everything I could think of, every little tidbit of information that might get him to calm down enough to convince him. The jokes we'd shared as he showed me how to fight. The gloves he gifted me. The conversation under the table in my cabin.  


As I spoke h e went still, then opened his eyes and looked into mine. “S-Sasha?” I gave him the best smile I could, which probably wasn’t great, but it was the best I could muster.

“Dorian, get the locks,” I ordered without breaking eye contact with Cullen. I heard the mage moving nearby, and the clinking of iron as he did as I commanded.

“You’re crying,” Cullen pointed out, softly. I was suddenly aware that my cheeks were wet and cold. “Please, don’t cry. Don’t cry.” I could hear something terrifying in his voice, but I needed to reassure him.

“I’m just glad we found you,” I whispered to him. It wasn’t a lie.

The last of the chains clanked to the floor, and I was crushed in a bear hug as Cullen lifted my feet off the floor in a desperate embrace.

“Truly sorry to break up this reunion,” Dorian’s voice was low and hurried. “But we need to move-  _ quickly _ .” I found myself on my feet again and stepped away as Cassandra threw Cullen his sword and shield.

“Let’s go,” the Commander ordered.

  
  


“Victory is impossible! The Elder One comes for us all- _ aah! _ ”

I hunched over as the latest rift closed, looking up as Cullen bashed Alexius with the pommel of his sword. The magister threw out a blast of power, knocking him off his feet, and the bastard disappeared again. He reappeared where he had previously: in the center of the room, about to open another rift.

This time, though, Cassandra charged him, and I felt some sort of weirdness coming from her- Seeker powers, perhaps? -and the rift that Alexius opened… came out wrong.

I don’t know how to describe it- it looked like almost any other rift- but more  _ jagged _ . After working that bit of magic, Alexius looked winded, like he’d just ran a marathon in his pointy robes. But the rift still produced demons.

A Greater Terror materialized, yanking itself out of the floor in that  _ fucking creepy _ way they do right next to Alexius. The man started, looking torn between teleporting away and letting the beast have its way with him. And in the end, that’s just what happened: the demon grabbed him by the throat, and  _ squeezed _ .

  
  


Alexius lay dead on the ground, and my arm  _ really _ fucking hurt, but there were demons beating down the door, and so, we weren’t in the clear just yet.

“An hour? That’s impossible! You must go  _ now! _ ” A screech rang through the throne room, loud enough to make my eardrums burn like my hand. “The Elder One.”

I noted the look that passed between Cassandra, Varric, and Cullen. It took only a fraction of a second for the realization to click into place for me- and only a fraction more before I was swept up in another crushing hug, Cullen murmuring something in my ear while Varric yelled, “We’ll hold the main door! Once they break through, it’s all you, Nightingale!”

Cullen pressed a kiss to my cheek as he let me go, running after Cassandra and Varric. As they closed the giant doors behind them, I handed Leliana my quiver, and she calmly told us, “You have as much time as I have arrows.”

Dorian powered up the spell, the air crackling around us, and I felt my hair stand on end. From the other side of the door, the most horrible sounds came, shouting and metal clanging and screaming and the shrieks of demons, and Leliana started singing the Chant.

“Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame.”

The door slammed open, and demons and Venatori entered, looking as calm as if they were going for ice cream on a lovely Sunday afternoon.

The body of Cassandra hit the floor, flung like a ragdoll thrown by a petulant child.

Then demons and Venatori alike began to fall, pinned by Leliana’s arrows.

“Andraste guide me. Maker, take me to your side.”

Varric rolled into view as more demons entered, and fell. Leliana took an arrow to the shoulder, then began bashing the nearest Venatori with her bow.

More demons entered. Cullen hit the floor in front of us, rolling to a stop and staring at me, amber eyes not moving, dead. Instinctively, I took a step forward to rush to his side, only to find myself grabbed by the wrist by Dorian.

“You move, and we all die!”

The magic crackled, the spell was cast, and I found myself staring at a living Alexius.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Dorian quipped.


	9. Illume

“Enchanter Fiona, I am giving you the choice,” I told her and the Queen, my words slightly over-enunciated, less for their benefit and more to help keep myself from bursting into angry tears. “You sold your followers into slavery to a Tevinter magister, who in turn was serving a monster bent on destroying the world- a future I saw  _ just now _ . Step down as their leader, allow them to choose another from their ranks, and we will take them in as allies.” I turned towards her, feeling my fury rising and struggling to contain it. “But if you insist on remaining their voice, you and your followers will be taken as prisoners and conscripts of the Inquisition, in chains if necessary, under the care of our templars.”

Fiona hung her head, and the powerful enchanter in front of me turned into a defeated old woman. “Very well,” she said, quietly. Then, raising her voice and her eyes to mine, she continued: “For my last act as leader of the rebel mages, I accept your offer of an alliance. I also hereby renounce my role as such. I appoint Enchanter Lysas as the temporary leader, until such time as one can be chosen… if that is acceptable to you, Herald.”

I nodded, feeling my anger lessen somewhat, and turned back to Queen Anora with the hope that my attempt at diplomacy would lessen the likelihood of finding Ferelden troops removing us from Haven at a later date. Fiona quietly slipped away, likely to inform Lysas of his new role and to help her former followers prepare for the journey back to Haven.

  
  


We stayed in the inn that night. I couldn’t stand to be in Redcliffe Castle. Which sucks, because we were forced to stay there for  _ hours _ ironing out agreements between the Queen, the mages, and the Inquisition.

Before we left, I took Felix aside, and offered to get him to Weisshaupt, to attempt the Joining, to buy him another twenty or thirty years as a Warden. He simply smiled, and politely declined, and told me he had things he needed to do in Tevinter sooner, rather than later.

Finally, all Inquisition business was settled. We left the castle, satisfied that the mages would be ready to leave the village first thing in the morning, and sent word to Captain Rylen via crow to prepare for their arrival in Haven, two days’ hence.

As my companions sat down to a surprisingly decadent meal in the inn’s greatroom, I sat in my tiny chamber above, in my chemise, listening to the raucous roaring of banter and jokes, tired but unable to sleep, heartbroken but unable to cry, overwhelmed but unable to do a damned thing about it but stare at the lone candle, sitting on the desk in the corner.

Unbidden, and for the first time since I fell into this world, a song sprang to mind, insistent, beating itself around the edges of my brain until I opened my mouth and let it out, softly, low:

_ Illumé, says a candle that I burn _

_ A reflection in the window  _

_ All the way to Point Dume _

_ Illumé-like it dances _

_ I am a cliff dweller _

_ From the old school _

_ I like the coastal cities _

_ I like the lights _

_ I like the way the ocean blends _

_ Into the city at night _

_ It's like living on a working river _

_ This coastline is glittering _

_ Like a diamond snake _

_ In a black sky _

_ I’m alone now _

_ With my thoughts _

_ Oh how we could make it _

_ Of how we could get out _

_ What we've been through _

_ All of the trauma _

_ The smell of Nag Champa _

_ Shadow of a stranger _

_ I will not take you for granted _

_ I wouldn't trade you for jade _

_ Or for diamonds _

_ Not for a minute _

_ Not for anything _

_ I need you to be there _

_ Just remember when I am haunted _

_ That I was just so scared _

_ What I saw on this journey _

_ I saw history go down _

_ I cannot pretend _

_ That the heartache falls away _

_ It's just like a river _

_ Oh, it's never-ending _

_ No, I cannot pretend _

_ That the heartache falls away _

  
  


I imagine it must have been an odd sight, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed with my back to the headboard, eyes closed, rocking softly as I sang, in English. And yet, I was neither embarrassed nor surprised to see Cullen peeking at me, the door opened just a crack, when I opened my eyes.

“Forgive me,” he said after I waved him in. “I didn’t want to disturb you- I just wanted to make certain you were alright.” He carried a wooden plate of food and a couple of earthenware steins, which he set on the desk. In the small room, he seemed huge, even without his armor and cloak.

I looked at him, his eyes dark in the near pitch-blackness of the room, the flicker of color from the flame on the candle. I thought about lying to him, even opened my mouth with the intent of soothing his worry away, but instead, all I could say was, “I’m not.”

My vision blurred, and I felt a weight slide onto the straw-stuffed mattress in front of me, and then I was sobbing on his shoulder. All I could see was his dead body in my mind’s eye. I felt the guilt, the horror, of seeing them all, sick with red lyrium, with blight, with the horrors of torture, I felt it. But all I saw was his dead eyes, staring at me.

Eventually, the sobs that wracked my body calmed, and he spoke. “Dorian told me what happened, a little. The future- the Empress dead, the demon army. And how- how we were all in the castle. And that we died to save you, to send the two of you back.”

I nodded against his shoulder.

“You-” he cleared his throat. “You disappeared, and it looked like he’d obliterated you in flames.”

“Obliterate’?”

“You were gone, very,  _ very  _ quickly.”

I nodded again.

“We thought you’d been killed, right before our eyes. There was a burn mark on the floor, even. Cassandra nearly beat me to killing him- and then, you came back.”

Oh, I knew where he was going with this. But I couldn’t, not then. I couldn’t have that discussion in that state.

“Cullen… you said something to me, before- you rushed off to your death,” I choked out the last of those words, clinging to him tighter. “And I can’t talk about it, not tonight, not how I am right now. Please, just stay with me awhile. Let’s talk about anything-  _ anything _ \- else.”

I felt him nod. And we talked. 

“What of that song? What’s it about?”

I gave a small chuckle. “You remember telling me about the Kirkwall Chantry?” He nodded. “Well, we had something similar happen, in my world. But… bigger.  _ Much _ bigger. In one of my country’s largest cities, two large buildings were toppled. Hundreds died. The song was a tribute to the dead.”

We talked through the night, and I told him about the more mundane aspects of my life, before. And he told me a bit about his life, too. Growing up in Honnleath. The games he played with his siblings. Reading books under the giant statue in the town center. (He seemed a bit confused when I chuckled at that.) At some point, he talked me into eating some of the food he’d brought, bread with butter, early strawberries, some dried apricots and apple slices.

Eventually, I drifted off into sleep, and I awoke to Cassandra shaking me awake, gently, to my surprise, as it was time to pack up and head out for Haven. For home.

I almost expected  _ someone _ to throw a hissy fit about allying with the mages, but even the someone I expected to didn’t do so, only making a few comments about preparing in case there were demons or abominations.

We rode ahead of the mages. Although Dorian and I were both tired and sore from our adventure into the future, I couldn’t be around the mages. I couldn’t see the gratitude, couldn’t witness their relief. I couldn’t be their hero, so I pushed myself, and our whole party, and we made Haven just after nightfall.

That night, I grabbed the fur off my bed, crawled under my desk, and slept soundly, for quite a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So originally, this song was supposed to be Landslide. So imagine my surprise when Sasha told me it was going to be Illume, instead. You can hear the song here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G6UPZ3YuNdI  
> The original title of the fic, by the way, roughly translated to "The landslide (avalanche) will bring you down" -hence the title change when that no longer was relevant, lol.


	10. Kiam Feko Trafas la Heroldon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I'm on hardcore lockdown because I have a SUPER mild version of Corona. Yay me! So I'm locked in my master suite with my wife riding the couch until I'm no longer shedding the virus, which means I've gotten a bit of writing done. So here's the chapter that is my favorite (so far). Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. The title translates to "When the shit hits the Herald"

It was agreed by myself, Cassandra, and the advisors that we’d give ourselves and the mages two weeks to prepare. That was enough time for Bull and the Chargers to return from Therinfall, for the necessary parties to rest and heal, and for the first few shipments of lyrium to arrive from the source Josephine acquired.

A camp had been set up for the mages away from Haven, much to my relief, and within a few days, the core of the Inquisition, myself included, was getting back to business as usual. I woke up, trained, practiced my reading and writing, and took a walk before dark, sometimes by myself, sometimes accompanied by a friend.

Fortunately for us, but unfortunately for him, the Commander had been rushed with recruits following the mage alliance, and he was swamped with work: setting up training schedules, building trebuchets, and paperwork. So. Much. Paperwork. I caught a glimpse of it every few mornings, when I’d come to his tent for our sparring sessions.

As the days passed, the horrors of Redcliffe Castle began to lessen, and although we discussed political assassinations and demon armies until we were all a little blue in the face, there was little we could do until the Breach was sealed and we could devote our resources to the next thing.

For the most part, I started sleeping better. Now that my friends were safe, as was-for the time being, anyway- this world I was getting used to, even starting to like, I could breathe easier. But occasionally, I’d find myself lying in bed with my heart thumping, hours until dawn, and terror coursing through my veins.

One such night, I decided to take a walk around the village to clear my head. The weather had been lovely, the winter slowly turning to spring, even up here, in the Frostbacks. But when I opened my door, the wind knocked the breath right out of me, and I grabbed a second, newly-acquired cloak to augment the first, along with a scarf I’d recently crocheted. As I wandered, I made a mental list of all the tasks I needed to complete, preferably in the next few days before we went back up the mountain: Give those notes I found to Adan, finish the stocking and hat set for Solas, finish reading  _ Tale of the Champion _ , deliver that bundle of dried elfroot to Mother Giselle, have my dragon armor repaired. As usual, I found myself by the lake, staring at those two wondrous moons, before deciding to go back to my cabin and give sleep a second shot.

But first, a trip to the latrine.

I went to use the newer one, the one dug by the mage and templar who were fighting that one day in front of the Chantry. I noted that another one needed to be dug as I stood on the wooden platform above the pit. I lowered myself over the hole, raising my skirts (having decided it was easier to go commando in multiple skirts than have to fight them to lower my drawers, as was apparently both Ferelden and Orlesian womens’ custom).

I was about to let loose when I realized that my cloaks were hanging down into the hole. I grabbed at the fabric… only to realize, belatedly, that I was standing on them.

I lost my footing and crashed onto the platform, splintering the rot-weakened wood and hitting the contents of the pit with an awful  _ splat! _

I  _ almost _ opened my mouth, the instinct to gasp from the cold liquid filth a difficult one to overcome. I sunk in humanoid waste, deeper than I thought the pit even went, struggling against gravity and my heavy clothing. Then my feet felt a hard bottom, and I pushed up against it, propelling myself up to the top of the pit, and preparing to scream for help. Pain shot through my glowing arm as I felt someone grab it and yank. I heard yelling, but I couldn’t tell who or what they were saying, as my ears were plugged by the filth. Hands propelled me somewhere, but I couldn’t figure out whose, or where we were going. Several steps away from the pit, I yelled, “Wait!” and bent over, emptying my stomach on the ground. Where, I couldn’t tell, as my eyes burnt, and I dared not think of why that was.

We entered a building, warm, moist air hitting my exposed, filthy skin. I felt careful hands start to remove my ruined garments, quickly. My ears popped as the remaining sewage drained from them, and I heard a familiar, calming voice.

“-gather clean clothes and the Herald’s toiletries. Get me some clean things, as well, and inform the on-duty healer we shall be stopping by after she’s warm and clean.”

“Yes, Commander,” I heard Rylen’s brogue, and then a blast of cold air as he left the building.

“Cullen,” I croaked. “My arm-”

I felt his hands working at the strings of my chemise.  _ Not how I’d hoped this moment would go.  _ “We’ll get you to the healer’s cabin, but if you don’t get clean, you’ll end up seriously ill. - _ Maker, _ it’s stuck to your skin, hang on-”

I heard him moving around the room, cursing as something wooden clanked against stone, then I heard the  _ splosh _ as water was scooped up, and I knew where I was now.

“Get me out of here, Cullen.” I felt panic welling up in me, and I’m pretty sure some of it came out in my voice.

“What? We need to get you cleaned up and warm-”

“I’m not going in the bath-”

He sighed. “Look, I’m going to pour water over your head. Hold your breath and be still-”

I felt warm water on my crown, dribbling down and loosening bits of drying filth off my face, then I heard him get another bucket of water. I tried to keep from freaking out. “I’m going to wipe your face,” he told me gently. I felt a soft cloth carefully scrub my face, and I opened my eyes.

He stood close, concern creasing his brow as he scrubbed my cheek intently. Sighing, he dropped the cloth in the bucket.

“I’m afraid you  _ will _ need to get into the bath, Sasha,” he told me, gently. My eyes darted to the small pool, filled with warm water from underground hot springs, then back to Cullen. “I- I can’t,” I whispered.

He rubbed my arms as I started shivering. “If this is about me seeing your body-”

“It isn’t- or, rather, there’s a bit of that, but that’s not the real reason.”

“You’re frightened, aren’t you?” He stopped rubbing, but I could still feel warmth from his hands. I nodded. “Would you feel better if I went in with you? After fishing you out, I’ll need a bath, too,” he joked. I looked back to the pool, swallowing bile.

“Either way, we still need to get you out of-  _ those _ ,” he pulled at the strings on my hips, causing my skirts to droop to my knees. A knock came at the door, and Rylen popped his head in, dropping a basket on a nearby bench.

“Commander, Herald.”

“Thank you, Rylen. Have someone stand guard, please.”

“Yes, ser.”

“Alright. Sasha. Give me a moment.” He moved off to the side, digging soap out of the basket and setting it next to the pool, then swiftly unbuckling his dirty plate armor and laying it out on another bench. As he moved, I shivered violently, my teeth chattering loudly, and I couldn’t tell if it was from cold or terror. Adrenaline coursed through me, and I almost felt high, like I was about to have an out-of-body experience. I jumped when Cullen touched me by the elbow, wearing only his linen breeches.

“Let’s get this off you,” he said, carefully working the dirty cloth over my head without jostling my shoulder too much, then gently pulling it off my useless arm. I tucked my injured arm up over my chest, hiding myself and providing the injured limb stability.

“C-Cullen,” I stammered.

“Sasha, you  _ have  _ to take a bath. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I stared at him for several long moments, just thinking. He let me. I nodded, and he took my hand, gently guiding me towards the pool, not moving his eyes from mine.

I felt my foot touch water, and before I could stop myself, I flinched and looked down, and my stomach churned. “Sasha, look at me.” Cullen had on his Commander voice. My eyes snapped back to his face, and he gave me a disarming smirk. I felt a soft tug on my hand once again, and taking a deep, shuddering breath, stepped down into the water, and another step, and I was in the deepest part, the water lapping at my hips.

“I’m going to let go of you now, to wash you,” he said, slowly and calmly, like he was talking to a frightened animal. Which he was. I nodded, and he squeezed my hand before letting go, moving to the side to get soap and a clean cloth. He wetted the cloth and worked up a lather, then began to scrub my uninjured arm, slowly moving up and over the rest of my body.

As he did, he hummed the tune I sang back in Redcliffe. Soon, I was softly singing it alongside him. The terror began to lessen, slowly.

He rinsed the remainder of the soapy water off my torso and arms with a small pewter cup found by the side of the pool, then asked me, “Are you able to kneel in the shallow water, so I will have an easier time washing your hair?” I took a deep breath, in through my nose and out through my mouth, and nodded, following Cullen and kneeling between his knees, back turned to him.

As he worked my hair into a soapy lather, I closed my eyes, focusing solely on the feeling of his hands on my scalp. Although I was no longer terrified, it was still horribly uncomfortable to think about where I was.

Satisfied my hair was clean, he began rinsing it with the cup, then stilled. “Maker! Your hair!”

“Huh?” My eyes snapped open, suddenly more nervous than I was before. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“It’s- it’s changing color!”

I panicked for just a second before realizing what it was… then I laughed.

“You thought- it’s dyed, Cullen, I had access to  _ very _ good hair dye back where I came from,” I chuckled. “I guess you haven’t seen it growing out- I must have had it covered every time we were together.” I wore my helmet when training, and a scarf wrapped around my head for warmth almost constantly otherwise. “I hadn’t even thought of it. Or what it would look like after… how long have I been here?” I tried figuring it out in my head, but I’ve never been very good with dates… especially since months were called something different here.

“The Conclave started on First Day, and the explosion happened on the third day- of Wintermarch, the first month of the year,” he explained. “Today is the fourth day of Cloudreach- the fourth month. You were in the Hinterlands for much of the month of Guardian.”

A question pinged in the back of my mind. “Cullen, when I stepped out of the Breach-” He’d been about to scoop up another cup of water to rinse again, but he stopped dead. I twisted as best as I could, curious. He had an odd look on his face.

“It’s just that nobody has told me what happened. And I don’t remember.”

He fiddled with the cup in his hands. Then he put it off to the side, took a breath, and looked me in the eyes.

“Inquisition soldiers had cleared the area, for the moment, anyway,” he began. “The demons came in sets, about every fifteen or twenty minutes, and we’d managed to gain a few to prepare for the next round. Remove the injured, swap out broken gear, distribute a bit of food. Rylen and I were keeping watch on one side of the Breach, and closer to the crater’s entrance, a few more soldiers, ready to summon the rest when it came time to do so.”

Here, he paused, looking a bit flushed.

“You… stepped out of the Breach, and collapsed in front of the captain and I… nude.”

“I beg your pardon?” I gaped, horrified.

“I wrapped you in my mantle, before anyone else saw you,” he said, quickly. “Cassandra and Leliana made certain you were clothed- the last thing we needed were rumors of nude women falling out of Fade rifts. Rylen understood the need for discretion. Nobody else saw.”

“Are you saying that I  _ Terminator _ ’d out of the Fade and literally  _ nobody else saw? _ ”

“I- am uncertain what you mean-”

I closed my eyes. “Fuck me,” I muttered softly. Then, suddenly overwhelmed, I began laughing. “I know you are telling me the truth… but it’s completely absurd.”

“You won’t get any arguments from me in that regard,” he chuckled.

Satisfied I was clean, Cullen assisted me out of the pool, helping me dry off and dress against the frozen night outside. I was whisked to the healers’ cabin, where my arm was popped back into place (which was nearly as awful as it is being dislocated in the first place) and I was given a series of gag-inducing potions, to lessen the pain, speed healing, and, with any luck, protect against any ill-effects of being submerged in excrement.

The sky was beginning to pinken as I was escorted back to my cabin, and I found myself sitting on my bed in a chemise and shawl slung over my shoulders, my arm bound to my chest with a rudimentary sling, watching Cullen as he stoked the fire and added more wood. I was exhausted, and I could see it in his face- he was, too. The rogue thought of inviting him for a nap with me wandered across my mind before I shut it down, shaking my head as if that would help clear it out.

Satisfied with the fire, he turned to the bed, pulling back the covers, and for all the events of the night,  _ this _ is when I began to feel embarrassed that I, a grown-ass woman, was being cared for like a child. That I had fallen into a pit of sewage. That I had fought against taking a bath, despite being covered head-to-toe in literal shit.

“Cullen…” I leaned over and touched his shoulder softly. He smiled at me, but I could see the worry in his eyes.

“You should sleep,” he said, softly. “You’ve had a… busy night.”

“As have you,” I pointed out. “You saved me from a most embarrassing death.”

He chuckled as he sat on the bed next to me. Then the mirth dropped from his face, and he looked down at his hands, fidgeting in his lap. “I also injured you.”

I covered his hand with my good one, scooting closer, pressing my hip and leg against his. “Don’t you dare feel bad about that. Don’t. I meant it-  _ you saved my life _ . And you took care of me when… when I couldn’t.”

We were both silent for several long moments. I squeezed his hand. And then I turned more toward him, to see him better, because he deserved to know what had happened- why I was so terrified.

“I told you about my faith,” I began. He nodded, telling me, “I remember.”

“I was- young- when I converted. Fourteen, maybe fifteen. And it was a happy thing for me, to know what I believed, to have this thing that gave me strength. I told my parents… and they didn’t take it well.”

I felt my heart speed up as I thought of that day.

“They were quiet, and when I had finished, they locked themselves in their bedroom. In hindsight, they were likely contacting the local priest- we had ways of speaking to one another across distance,” I told him, at his questioning look. “Then they took me to the local church- that’s what we called our version of the chantry. They left me in a small chapel near the main one, with four nuns and the priest, Father Joe,” I spat his name. “I will never forget his name. What they did- well, it started slowly. Readings from the Bible- our version of the Chant- asking me to repent, that sort of thing. But I didn’t think I had anything to repent. I did nothing wrong, I told them.”

By this time, Cullen’s arm had made it around me. He didn’t hug me around my shoulders, observing my injury, but tucked his hand around my side, and was holding my hand with his free one. The knot in my stomach loosened.

“Then they were yelling, and I finally couldn’t take it any longer- I put my fingers in my ears to block it out, it was  _ so loud _ . I am not certain, but I think that’s when they decided I was possessed.”

I felt him start, pull away from me and I turned my face to him. The look of terror in his eyes made me gasp.

“Cullen, I wasn’t possessed. Where I’m from,  _ that doesn’t exist. _ We didn’t have magic or demons or any of that where I came from. That doesn’t stop them from using it as an excuse to hurt others,” I told him ruefully.

“They grabbed my arms and dragged me to the front of the chapel, where there was a baptismal font. The practice of baptism was a symbolic one- splash a little water onto someone, and it was said to wash away your sins. It was rare to have a font like this church did- large enough to submerge a person.

“They held me underwater. I struggled, and managed to break the surface a few times for air, but they’d get me back down again. Through the panic, I decided that if they were going to kill me, I’d make them hurt as best I could before I died.” I noticed my cheeks were wet, and I swiped at them with my sleeve. I hadn’t realized I was crying.

“What did you do?” Cullen whispered to me, his face seemingly frozen in horror.

“One of them- one of the nuns- got her hand too close to my mouth. I bit her,  _ hard _ , and they let me up. When I stood up in the water, there was blood, and they were backing away from me slowly.”

“How did your parents react to… it?”

“The injured nun went out a side door, so I don’t think they saw her, or the blood in the water. The priest simply claimed that he’d banished the demon, and they believed him. When I tried to tell them about it, my mother accused me of being overly dramatic. My father at least had the decency, then, to look a bit ashamed. But after that, we never talked about it.”

“Never?”

“It’s… complicated. I never wanted to. And I don’t think they did, either.”

He was silent for a moment, staring down at his lap. I could see the cogs going in his head- and I could guess where they were going to stop.

“That’s why you were so terrified in the bath. And I… I forced you to get in.”

I pulled him in for a hug with my good arm. He stiffened, but then he relaxed, hugging me back. “This is different. I know that.  _ You _ know that. It needed to happen, and you lent me your strength to do it.” I took a deep breath- he smelled like soap, but under that, other scents, sweetness and something else, not as strong. “I got out of there, as soon as I could. As soon as I became of age.” I felt him nod, glad that I didn’t have to explain it further.

We held each other like that, and were quiet; the only sound in the room was the crackle of the fireplace.

“I never told you what you said to me, in that nightmare future in Redcliffe Castle, before-” My voice cracked. I couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I… think I know what it entailed.”

I pulled away, just enough to look at him. “Oh? Care to enlighten me, Commander?” I teased, trying to use humor to bolster myself.

He chuckled, and his voice was like creamy hot chocolate. His hand gently caressed my face as he replied, “Of course.”

His lips touched mine softly, melding against mine, then, slowly, he pulled away.

“Something like that,” I drawled.

He chuckled as he kissed me again.


	11. Malpura Druffalo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm still alive! Yay!  
> I'd like to take a moment to remind you about the playlist I made for this fic:  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLcnFkkrOwQeQpMmKj_jKIzfoVAnvay70Q

With a newly-injured shoulder, plans to permanently close the Breach were postponed until I could properly heal. Even with Solas throwing a little healing magic my way, the tendons were still weak, and overexertion could cause me a permanent disability. 

_ That _ was a fun conversation to have with Josephine, Leliana, and Cassandra. Josephine had been horrified, Cassandra disgusted, and Leliana barely held a grin at bay.

“Knight-Captain Rylen was the only one, other than myself, to witness the… accident,” Cullen told them at the War Table. “Though we won’t be able to stop the troops from gossiping and speculation. The area was put to rights before sunrise. Needless to say, we are having more latrines dug- ones that are more shallow than is standard.”

“And new platforms built, of course?” asked Josephine.

“Of course,” Cullen affirmed.

“Despite no other apparent witnesses, the story  _ has _ already spread around the camp,” Leliana informed us. “Much like your nighttime activities in the Hinterlands.”

I facepalmed with my good arm. “Fuck me,” I muttered, as always, in English.

“It will be… interesting to see what our allies make of this,” Josephine commented.

  
  


I may have been put off fighting bandits and training, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t kept busy while convalescing. If it could be done with one arm bound to my chest, I was put to the task. That meant collecting herbs around Haven, grinding them (with the mortar secured between my thighs), wrapping bandages, and stirring cookpots. Oh, and studying: History, etiquette, nobility, the arcane, and other such useful knowledge.

I was bored silly.

The upside was that there were many lovely nights spent sitting by the side of the lake with Cullen.

“I can’t quite believe this is happening,” he murmured against my hair one night. I was tucked under his left arm, leaning in with my right-  _ good- _ shoulder, and in just the right position to tilt my head up for one of his sweet, soft kisses.

Giving his hand a squeeze, I asked him, “Can’t believe what is happening? That?” I jerked my head to the side, indicating the Breach above us and up the mountain.

“Believe me, that is less strange than- than us,” he told me with a small chuckle.

“How so?”

“You’re the Herald of Andraste-”

I groaned.

“Yes, I know, but even so-  _ someone _ or  _ something _ caused the Breach, and we will have to find out what that was, and stop it. Which means we will be at war.”

I sighed. “I’m aware.”

“And I didn’t think this- with you- was possible.”

I giggled. “I’m certain you’re not the only one who thinks that. What  _ will _ people say when they find out about us?”

It was his turn to groan. “You wouldn’t  _ believe _ how quickly gossip spreads amongst the troops.”

“I have an idea,” I grumbled, remembering a moment earlier in the day when I abruptly left the tavern after hearing a joke about how I was up to my neck in Inquisition shit.

“I would rather my-  _ our _ \- private affairs remain that way. But if there were nothing here for people to talk about, I would regret it more.”

Private affairs. I sat up and turned to look at him. The mischief on my mind must have shown up on my face, for he chuckled and asked, “Oh Maker, I’m in for it, aren’t I? How is my lady going to make me blush  _ this _ evening?”

I couldn’t wipe the grin from my face. “Varric told me of a place in Kirkwall where he and Hawke ran into quite a lot of Templars…”

“Damn that dwarf,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, I never did visit the Blooming Rose.”

“Ah, so you had a lady friend in Kirkwall?”

“Andraste preserve me,” he muttered softly. “No… I was not good company whilst I was there. I fear I made few friends.”

Any thought of mischief and flirting evaporated quickly. “You were there for…”

“Nine years.”

“And- no one?”

“Not ever, in fact.”

I had no words, so I stroked his cheek, and he gave me a small smile. “That isn’t a problem?”

“Not at all,” I quickly reassured him. “I just know- you have had a hard life. I’m sorry you had to go it alone.”

He leaned in, planting another sweet, soft kiss on me. Awkwardly- without the use of one arm, that is- I got to my knees, throwing a leg over his to straddle him. Even in the low light of the night, I could see a bit of color rising to his cheeks. As I leaned in to kiss him-  _ properly _ kiss- I rested my good arm on his shoulder, pulling him in just slightly. He began to relax a little as I ran my teeth over his bottom lip, and I felt his hands move up my legs to my hips.

And then a thought occurred to me that made me pause, which Cullen, of course, picked up on. “What is it?” He asked me softly.

“Does- um- does my…  _ history _ bother you at all?”

“What do you mea- Oh. Is this about the Hinterlands?”

“That, and my experiences before I came here.”

“No.” He said the word decisively, in his Commander voice. “That is- ah-”

“I don’t know the word- that two people are together, and nobody else, yes?”

Now he was  _ really _ blushing, but he nodded.

“You have nothing to worry about from me,” I murmured to him, cupping his cheek.

He chuckled. “I have plenty to worry about from you, just not that,” he leaned in to press another kiss to my lips. “Besides,” he mumbled through the smooch. “ _ One _ of us should know what they’re doing here.”

I giggled and nipped his lip.

  
  


The conversation with Cullen prompted the question: how  _ do _ I talk about our relationship- and presumably later, sex- when I don’t know the Common words for them, and he’s too reserved to teach them to me?  _ No way in Hell _ was I going to ask Varric- I didn’t want any part of this conversation to end up in the book he was undoubtedly going to write about this if we all survived, and neither I nor the rest of Haven would ever hear the end of it if I did. I ticked through my mental list- there were really only two who were all but certain to talk sex with me. I was pretty certain that if I asked Sera, I’d end up regretting it in some way that would probably be very embarrassing, and so I mentally girded my loins and approached Bull in the tavern.

“Hey Boss, how’s it going?”

“Oh, you know, it’s going great!” To my own ears, my voice was several octaves above its normal pitch.

“Really? ‘Cause you seem nervous.”

“I- yeah, do you have some time? Because I need your help with something.”

“Sure thing, Boss.” 

We made our way to an empty table, waving to Flissa to get us some drinks. She brought them over- an ale for Bull and mead for me- and I took a big gulp of mine.

“So, you need me to kick someone’s ass for you?”

I knew he meant it as a joke, but I was too nervous to laugh.

“Ah, no. Umm… so… you know I’m still learning Common.”

“Yeah. You’re not too bad at it now, but I’ve noticed you do trip up over some words.”

“And you’ve probably noticed that- I’m, um-  _ with _ the Commander.”

“And nobody taught you words related to sex.”

I nodded.

“That  _ is _ a problem, but don’t worry, Boss, I’ll get you straightened out.”

“And  _ that _ is how you do the Dirty Druffalo.”

I snorted through my drink. “That is  _ completely ridiculous, _ Bull!”

He shrugged, grinning at me. “Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it.” He tipped his tankard back, finishing off his ale. “Well, that’s all I got, Boss. If you don’t mind, I’m gonna head back to my boys, I promised them a few rounds.”

I stood up with him, and it suddenly occurred to me that I should hug the huge Qunari for his help. I teetered around the table to him- was the ground moving? Surely I didn’t have  _ that _ much to drink- and wrapped my arms around his torso. “I fucking love you, Bull,” I muttered to his bellybutton.

He chuckled and peeled my arms off him. “Well, Boss, I’m guessing you’ve had more than enough, since I couldn’t understand what you just said. C’mon, Cullen just walked through the door, I’d bet he’s looking for you.”

Bull steered me by my good arm through the crowd, and I saw the Commander by the door, almost a full head taller than the soldiers who had just approached him. He said something to them and they saluted and walked away, and he turned towards us.

“Hey, Commander, got somethin’ for ya.”

“Maker, how much has she had to drink?”

“A lot,” the Qunari answered him, placing my hand on his arm. “She had some… questions, and couldn’t get ‘em out sober.”

“You’re so  _ pretty, _ ” I told Cullen. He gave me a questioning frown, then turned it on Bull.

“I dunno, Commander, I haven’t figured out her language yet. Don’t worry, she hasn’t done anything embarrassing yet. Unless you count a drunken hug, that is, but we’ve all been there.”

Cullen chuckled at that, then patted my hand. “Come on, let’s get you into your bed.”

I woke in the morning in my shift, cozy and warm in my bed. I sat up- and felt the rise of sick in the back of my throat. Throwing my feet off the side of the bed with the hope of getting outside fast enough, I put my foot in my recently added chamber pot- clean, thankfully- and stumbled, before dropping to my knees and letting loose the contents of my stomach. As I heaved, I felt my hair being lifted gently out of the way, and a hand rubbed my back comfortingly.

I finally finished, sitting back on my ankles, and Cullen handed me a wet cloth. I swiped it around my face and mouth, and traded it back to him for a cup of water. Watching him as he wiped up the sick on the floor, I noted his lack of armor.

“You drank too much,” he said. It wasn’t an accusation, I understood, but a simple fact.

“I did.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I just got hit by a bus.”

“Which is…?”

“Imagine a metal object the size of a few druffalo in a straight line, then make it move fast.”

“I see,” he chuckled. “Well, I have some bread, if you would like to try keeping it down.” I nodded and munched on the offered piece. Cullen returned to the desk chair, where he’d set up his armor polish kit, picked up a shoulder piece-  _ pauldron _ , I remembered him telling me one day- and rubbed it with a cloth. He gave me a smile when he noticed me watching him. The light from the hide-covered window suggested it was late morning, probably getting close to noon.

“Were you here all night, looking after me?”

“Yes, although I had to leave you for morning drills. Thankfully, Mother Giselle was willing to watch you during that time.”

“Please tell me you got  _ some _ sleep, at least.”

“I dozed a little.”

“Cullen…”

“Making certain you were alright was worth the loss of sleep,” he chuckled.

I slid off the bed and padded over to him- carefully, as I  _ may _ have still been a tad drunk- and leaned against the side of the chair to give him an awkwardly haphazard hug. He put the pauldron off to the side, then swept me into his lap playfully. Though my head swam with the movement, I couldn’t help but laugh. He planted a kiss on my forehead.

“You’re in an awful good mood for someone who babysat a drunk woman all night,” I teased him.

“I can’t say it was too terrible; you said many entertaining things over the course of the evening.”

I groaned. “ _ No _ , I didn’t make a fool of myself to the whole town, did I?”

He chuckled and kissed my forehead again. “No, you mostly spoke- what’s your language again?”

“English.”

“You mostly spoke English after Bull handed you off to me. In here, though, you told me many interesting things. For instance, you wanted to do the “Dirty Druffalo” with me-”

I groaned again- and laughed.

  
  
  


“ _ Deal. With. It. _ ”

Cassandra’s steely voice rang out over the clangs of swords against shields, and I passed the annoyed mage as he stormed away from the Seeker. The man- the newly elected leader of our mage allies- looked familiar; his name was Levyn, a middle-aged dark-haired human with a face that I could, for some reason, only describe as “weasel-like.” I couldn’t place him and I couldn’t figure out why I disliked him, but I tried to treat him as civilly as possible, even if the strange scars on his hands did make me uneasy.

“It never ends, evidently,” Cassandra commented as I joined her.

“What did he demand this time?” 

“Nothing that he can’t do himself, if he wished it. I just don’t know who told them  _ I’m _ the one to yell at.”

“Not me,” I chuckled.

“The mages are here as equals. They need to get used to what that means. It is  _ your _ doing, after all. You created this alliance.”

I put my hands up in front of me in mock surrender. “Woah, hey, I did the best. I didn’t trust Fiona to lead them, but I didn’t want them to be prisoners.”

She stared at me in surprise, and then understanding washed over her face. “Oh. I  _ do _ sound like I’m blaming you, don’t I? I don’t disapprove- in fact, you did well. You made a decision when one needed to be made. And you did so in a way that satisfied everyone.”

Well, not everyone. I still got some leery looks from the Templars in camp, especially the handful Bull and the Chargers had managed to bring back with them from Therinfall- the ones that, as Captain Rylen had hilariously put it, went barking at the moon. I didn’t bother telling Cassandra that.

“Hopefully everyone will calm down after we close the Breach,” Cassandra said as she turned back to her beat-up training dummy and retrieved her sword from the ground next to it.

“That’s in… two days?”

She stared at me before rubbing her forehead. “We should get you a calendar,” she muttered. “No, it’s tomorrow. So you had better get a good night’s rest, rather than stay up smooching with the Commander.”

I laughed. And, of course, ignored the advice.


	12. Brulantaj Koroj *NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got waaaay ahead on my writing, and just finished the giant emotional low for Sasha. It's almost twenty chapters out so it won't be posted for a good long white, but in the meantime, I needed something to cheer myself up. So I'm posting smut. Yay!

In the early hours of the morning, we marched up the mountain- me, the mages, a bunch of soldiers, and my friends. 

“Hey, Boss!” Bull hollered at me as we ascended. “What trouble are you getting into up here?” I could hear Varric chuckling behind me.

“I was thinking of knocking a qunari off the mountain and watching him roll into a big snowball,” I quipped over my shoulder.

“Hah! I’d like to see you try!”

“I volunteer to do it in your stead, Herald!” Cassandra chimed in. “It would be my pleasure!”

“Mine, too!” Bull yelled back at her, Blackwall guffawing and Sera giggling.

In short, spirits were high, as we were certain it was going to work  _ this time _ . It had to.

And it did.

We were back before lunch.

  
  


While the residents of Haven were preparing a feast, I washed myself at the basin in my cabin, then stood in front of the fire in my birthday suit to dry off. While I was expected to make some sort of appearance at the party, I’m not really the type to enjoy big crowds for very long. I’m an introvert, but an outgoing one.

Dry and toasty, I laid on my bed, enjoying the quiet of the room, the crackling of the fire, and let my mind wander. Closing the Breach had been  _ exciting _ . I had felt the power from the mages flowing through me- the best I could describe it would be a tingling, not painful, but instead somewhat pleasurable, sort of like warm water flowing across the skin, except  _ inside _ . The whole experience was a vastly different beast the second time around.

The advisors had stayed behind- nobody told me why, but I surmised that there had to be  _ someone _ back at base to continue the Inquisition if the rest of us were all blown sky-high. But the look on Cullen’s face when the three of them greeted us at the bridge was enough to cause my thoughts to run amok.

This bed had seen more than its fair share of my self-pleasuring; I’ve never been shy about using “me time” to relieve stress, pain, or frustration, and since coming to Thedas, I’ve had a bit more of all three than I had before. Add in feelings left after Cullen and I would part at night- and even some ( _ cough _ ) post-sparring sessions early on…

I fluffed up my pillow and closed my eyes, and began to run my fingers over my body. I had lost some weight and gained some muscle, and although I was still rather curvy, it was still something to get used to.

Both hands moved southward, and I ran my nails over my thighs softly, and my breasts began to ache. One hand stayed below, playing with my labia gently, while the other rubbed away the aching in my nipples, turning pain into pleasure.

I was already wet, and it took no work to get me close. I paused, letting myself come down a bit, before starting back again, slowly this time. 

Of course, in my mind, it was Cullen who was touching me, kissing me, both sets of lips. I could see those golden-brown eyes staring at me from between my thighs just as surely as if he were actually there. And as I got close again, I couldn’t help, couldn’t stop the moaning that escaped me. 

I threw my head back, a big stupid grin plastered across my face, as I came, wave after glorious wave of pleasure moving over me. My hips rolled against my fingers, seemingly of their own accord, prolonging the feelings.

Satisfied, I let my hand slip away, focusing on the feelings of my body, the air in my lungs- and the gasp heard by my ears.

My eyes snapped open, and of course, there he was, in simple linen slacks, shirt, and light leather slippers- Haven being quite a bit warmer during the latter days of Cloudreach than it was earlier- with his back purposefully to me, and rubbing his neck. I made a rather embarrassing squeak and grabbed my clean chemise from the end of the bed, throwing it over myself as I listened to him babble.

“-I didn’t-  _ Maker _ , I am sorry, Sasha, I knocked and heard you answer ‘yes’ and I just thought-”

“Cullen, y-you can turn around-”

“-not like I haven’t- to you- I mean-”

“You’ve  _ seen me _ , you know-”

I burst into laughter, the sound ringing through the room. Here we were, my sweetheart having discovered that I masturbated to the fantasy of him by getting an eye-full of me doing the deed. If this were porn, we would already be going at it, but instead, all we can do is stammer at each other and blush.

My reaction must have caused his curiosity to overcome his embarrassment, as he slowly turned to face me, a confused look on his face.

“Fuck me,” I said, as usual, in English- then began laughing even harder at the meaning of my favorite curse in this moment. Though I knew he didn’t understand the humor in that, Cullen began chuckling, likely laughing at my laugh, as he sat on the bed next to me.

“Maker, we are a pair, aren’t we?”

I wiped the tears from my eyes and leaned into him for a hug. “You poor man,” I joked through my giggles. “You weren’t expecting that when you came to my door.” I leaned into him to playfully kiss his cheek.

He cleared his throat, the color rising in his cheeks. “And what if- what if I had… something similar to mind?”

I gaped at him in surprise-  _ delighted _ surprise. “Commander,” I purred. “Were you coming to  _ seduce _ me?”

He pounced, grabbing me and pulling me into his lap. I expected one of his sweet, soft kisses. I got that- the type of kiss that puts us into our own little world. But then he surprised me, gently dragging his teeth over my lower lip. Almost instantly, I was back “on,” my hand moving to his face to cup his cheek. His tongue gently probed my lips, and he softly moaned when I lightly sucked at his upper lip.

“Wait a minute,” I chuckled, extricating myself from him. Crossing over to the desk, I fished the cabin key out of its drawer, then locked the door and returned the key to its spot. He chuckled as I gave him a cheeky grin, and I joined him on the bed, reclining against the pillows and motioning for him to move closer. He settled in, kicking off his shoes and wrapping his arms around me, and he kissed me, trailing his lips across my cheek to my jaw, making me shiver.

“Cullen,” I said, threading my fingers through his hair. “Are you sure…?”

His kisses led to my ear, and he murmured low, “I am certain. May I touch you…?”

“ _ Yes, _ ” I moaned as he found and nipped That Wonderful Spot on my neck. My finger grasped at his shirt, and he allowed me to pull it over his head before he rolled me onto my back. I felt his fingers slowly dragging my chemise up, over my thighs, up to my hips. He settled himself between my legs, and I felt his hardness through his pants pressed against my lips. I moaned, jerking my hips, rutting against him, and heard him grunt against my neck.

“You’ve made my breeches wet, madame,” he quipped in my ear.

“That’s a shame,” I replied. “I suppose you’ll have to remove them if you want them dry.”

That low, sexy chuckle made my heart skip a beat, and he nipped That Spot on my neck before sitting up to pull at his pants tie. I followed him up, wanting to get a good look- and feel- at him.

I ran my fingers over his shoulders and down his pecs, heart twisting at the surprising number of scars on his body. It must have shown on my face, as he covered my hands with his.

“You want to know about them,” he said- a statement, not a question.

I nodded. “Yes, but I won’t ask if you don’t want me to.”

He pulled the chemise up over my head, then moved in to kiss me. “Later,” he growled against my lips, wrapping his arms around me and sending me back to the pillows. Lowering himself between my legs, he kissed me deeply as he pressed his cock up to my slit. Almost reflexively, I rolled my hips until my clit was rubbing directly against him. It was an oddly amazing feeling: the warmth of his length, contrasting with the coolness of where the air hit the moisture my cunt left behind.

We lay there, but the word “lay” doesn’t describe the motion of us. Grinding against each other, arching, hands- fingers- touching- my breasts- his pecs- I bit a spot just behind his ear a bit harder than I intended.

He gasped and moaned loudly, suddenly, then moved one arm to cradle my head and pressed his forehead against mine. “Sasha,” he gasped, “I need- may I-”

“ _ Cullen _ ,” I panted. “In- me-  _ Now. _ ”

I felt him shift his weight onto one arm, and with the other, he gently parted my lower lips and guided himself in, fumbling just a little. I felt the tip of him at my entrance, then slowly-  _ agonizingly slowly _ \- he slid in, inch by inch.

I watched his face as he slowly filled me up, wonder and pleasure streaking across his features in turn. I was almost agonizingly full when his pelvis finally came to rest at mine.

He buried his face against my collarbone, kissing my shoulder. “You feel  _ so good _ .” I wriggled underneath him, and his head snapped up. “Are you alright? Am I hurting you?”

“Yes- I’m just-” I managed to scoot down an inch or two, and pleasure hit me as he settled in  _ just right _ against my G-spot. My head fell back and I let out a deep, low moan. “ _ YES, right there _ -”

I felt him lift up, sliding almost completely out of me, then sliding back in slowly. I cupped his cheeks and kissed him, delighting in the rumble from his moan as I did so. Before too long, he had the feel of the rhythm of our bodies together, and I had the feel of my second orgasm slowly building up on me.

And then it was different; it was more intense, more feral. He broke off a kiss and pressed his forehead against mine again, staring into my eyes as I stared into his. His hips snapped against mine with an audible noise, and I whimpered as his pelvis ground into my clit. Several more snaps like that and I was right there, right on the edge; I moaned out, “Cullen,  _ go faster, _ ” and he obliged, and my orgasm hit me like lightning, burning through my body as he slowed, pumping harder, riding out the spasms.

As my body finished twinging, he picked up the pace, finding the way that felt best for him. I whimpered through my kisses, the tingling, the  _ pleasure _ that hit me with every thrust making my toes curl against the blanket. And then he moaned deep, low in his chest as he thrust hard against me once, twice, thrice, and more, pumping me full of his cum.

He stilled, gasping in my arms, against my lips, spent. I held him like that for several long moments, propped up above me just  _ this _ side of squashing me, buried to the hilt still. He then collapsed, rolling off me and dragging me up onto his chest as I giggled in surprise.

“ _ Sweet merciful Maker, _ ” he gasped.

Not gonna lie; I was pretty proud at that moment.

“Was it good for you?” I joked. His laugh was low and husky, and it sent a delightful shiver down my spine. He trailed it with his fingers, subconsciously tracing patterns into my skin.

“ _ Very _ good.” He paused. “When you-  _ clenched _ around me… was that you finding your pleasure?”

“It was,” I said, making the mental note to steal that phrasing for later.

He was quiet for a moment, reflective. Then, quietly: “Is it like that- for everyone?”

I laid my chin against my hands, against his chest, and I smiled. “No,” I replied. “It depends on a lot of things. How each person is feeling. If they are in good health. If they care about the other person’s feelings or pleasure. My first time was… not great. It could have been worse, but it could have been  _ much _ better, if my partner had cared at all.”

He rose up on one elbow and threaded his other hand in my hair, pulling me in to kiss me once again, and I understood his meaning clearly: That was a problem I would not have as long as we two were together.  



	13. En Via Koro Ŝvelos

We were still awash in the dopamine ocean when the bells rang out. Instantly, Cullen turned into the Commander; from the dopey-eyed newly-initiated lover to battle-hardened soldier. He was up and in his clothes before I’d had the chance to roll out of bed, throwing my gambeson and chausses at me, giving me a quick-yet-passionate kiss before running out the door. I dressed as quickly as my slightly panicky fingers would allow, the cries of “Forces approaching! To arms!” causing my heart to speed up. Cramming my feet into my boots as I tucked my hair up under my linen coif, I threw on the mail headpiece and ran out the door, snagging my weapons as I passed them.

Everyone was gathered by the gate, surrounding a young man in an absurdly large hat. I patted Bull’s arm as I squeezed between him and Blackwall, and the young man seemed to appear right before me.

“I’m Cole- I came here to warn you, to help. Look-” he pointed up the mountain. Someone handed me a spyglass, and I took a good look. There was a templar with a giant sword and… something that looked familiar. I thought back to  _ Awakening _ . It looked like the Architect… or...

“Fuck me.” I vaguely remembered that  _ thing _ from one of the DA2 expansions.

“The Elder One,” Cole continued. “You know him- he knows you. You took his mages- he’s  _ very _ angry.”

“Cullen, give me a plan! Anything!” I shouted above the growing roar of the army before us.

“Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster,  _ we must control the battle _ . Point the trebuchets at the mountain- cause an avalanche and bury their troops.” He turned to shout orders, and I looked out towards the first trebuchet- already swarming with templars. I pulled my bow off my back and grabbed an arrow, notching it as I yelled to my companions- “Everyone! Defend the trebuchets!”

Into the fray we ran.

  
  


The templars were dead, buried in several tons of snow and ice, and we’d won. We’d survived annihilation. 

And then, before I knew what had hit me, everything was on fire and we were all picking ourselves up off the frozen ground. Several people were cursing; behind me, I heard Bull yelling, “That’s just messed up!”

“We can’t fight that here!” I yelled. “Back to the gates! Everyone!”

We hauled ass, grabbing what few stragglers we could. Cullen held the gate for us, yelling for us to get to the Chantry. “It’s the only building that might hold against that- beast! At this point, just make them work for it,” he snarled.

The party broke up. Dorian, Vivienne, and Varric took on the templars bearing down on Ser Lysette; the rest of us ran for the ones at the tavern. I heard a voice from within the building, and somehow managed to pull out Flissa, singed and covered in soot. Blackwall and Bull got to Minaeve and Adan, and as they were being carried away, the pots around them exploded. Cassandra, Sera, and Solas ran to back up Threnn as the rest of us ran for the safety of the chantry building.

Roderick greeted us at the door, supported by that strange kid, Cole. “He tried to stop a templar. The blade went deep. He’s going to die.”

“What a charming boy,” the cleric replied sarcastically.

“Someone get a healer!” I shouted to a nearby group of townspeople.

“Sasha,” Cullen ran up to us. “Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

“What do they want? They must have demands!” I fought to keep from panicking. 

“You,” Cole said, simply. “The Elder One wants you. No-one else matters.”

“How do I stop him?” I asked the kid.

“You can’t. He will crush you.”

“Sasha, there are no tactics to make this… survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide.”

“Cullen, no, I will not bury these people! There has to be another way!  _ Fuck me _ ,” I exclaimed. “Where’s Leliana? Wasn’t she here during the Blight-”

“Herald,” Roderick yelled hoarsely. “There is a path. You wouldn’t know it, unless you made the summer pilgrimage, as I have. The people can escape.”

“Get them out, Commander,” I snagged a full quiver from a pile of them by the door. Cullen grabbed me by the arm as I turned to the doors.

“What of your escape?” He didn’t sound panicked, but I could see terror in his eyes.

“These mountains are riddled with cave systems. Didn’t we have a bunch of researchers traipsing around them several weeks ago?” Still, he was slow to let go of me. I turned fully towards him.

“I have no intention of becoming a martyr. I will  _ not _ die today. I will bring the mountain down upon the monster, and pop out the other side. Be on the lookout for me,” I said it easily, as if I were joking, and planted a kiss on him.

“Bull, Dorian, Viv- with me. Everyone else, help the people escape!”

Cullen called for soldiers- “They’ll load the trebuchets. Keep the Elder One’s attention until we’re above the treeline. If we are to have a chance- if  _ you _ are to have a chance- let that thing hear you.”

  
  


I was backed against the trebuchet, my sword pointed at Corypheus. With any luck, my companions escaped. I was left facing the Elder One.

I had a plan, sort of. During my wanderings of Haven, I had come across an old mine shaft, boarded up. At the time, I had poked at the wood, curiosity overcoming my better judgement, and found it splintered rather easily. Hopefully, it led to the surface, somewhere else.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it. A flare pierced the sky, small, unnoticed by the beast in front of me, but it was my cue. I mentally girded my loins.

“You’re awfully confident for someone who’s about to be thwarted,” I quipped as I kicked the lever on the machine, causing it to send its payload to the sky. The monster watched it soar, and I ran like mad.

  
  


I came to at what I can only presume was the bottom of the mine shaft, unsure whether I should be grateful or unsettled by the fact that I didn’t remember anything after the avalanche caught up with me. As I lay in the snow, I took stock of what I could see: not a whole damn lot. It was pitch black, and I didn’t have a way to start a fire- and what if there wasn’t enough oxygen to support myself and a torch-

Except that I had a glowing hand. Right. Duh.

I tried to remove my glove, only to find that my left arm didn’t work. As I attempted to pick myself up, I became aware of the ache- I’d dislocated it again. Fuck me. And my collarbone hurt like hell and “clicked” rather strangely- it had to be broken. I tried taking a deep breath, but that hurt, too- broken ribs?

I somehow managed to turtle-roll myself onto my feet and good arm, and although I ached all over, I could still move, at least. I tucked my fucked-up arm against my chest, pulled off my glove, and hoped for enough light to get through this hole.

I wandered for what felt like hours, following a path that sort of felt like it went up, and prayed to whatever gods were listening that I didn’t accidentally wander into something that wanted to eat me.

I did run into some wraiths- which, in all fairness, weren’t exactly the type to chow down on a person- and my hand did something odd: it cast a green dome around me, which sucked the wraiths out of existence. Which would have been  _ really fucking cool _ , if it didn’t also hurt like hell. But I survived the encounter, and thankfully for me, the wraiths were guarding an exit.

It was a full-on blizzard outside, but I had a trail of breadcrumbs to follow: rather, a trail of broken shit abandoned by the Inquisition’s retreating army. Either way, I followed it.

And followed.

I walked for literal hours- this I know, as I watched the moons trail each other across the sky. The snow ran deeper. I came across a dead campfire, but the embers were cold. But soon, on the horizon, I saw a glow of orange. It had to be the Inquisition!

As I stumbled through the growing snow banks, my mind began to wander. The orange glow looked an awful lot like the streetlamps on the college campus, back in Missouri. The mountains began to swim and shiver, but then they weren’t mountains anymore; they were the skyscrapers of downtown St Louis, and I could even see the Arch. It wasn’t even cold any longer, but warm; I sat down on a bench at the nearby bus stop, and wondered if I had enough cash on me to get a Greyhound ticket back to Springfield. 

As I sat there, I realized how tired I was. I definitely knew better than to go to sleep on the sidewalk in downtown St Louis, so I fought to keep awake.

“There she is!”

I was suddenly enveloped in a bear hug- by a literal bear. Obviously, it was Boomer, the Missouri State University mascot, coming to take me home. I let him pick me up, and snuggled close.

He smelled like leather, sweetness, and the woods- a strangely familiar scent to sleep on.


	14. La Tagiĝo Venos

I was underwater, and I was being held there.

It was much like the incident with the priest and nuns, but  _ more. _ More water. More depth to the pool. More hands keeping me under.

I could breathe, though. Or, at least, I didn’t feel the burning of my lungs as I tried not to drown. In that regard, I was fine. But I was still underwater, and that wasn’t as great.

So I panicked, and I fought. I fought like I did back then- I kicked, and punched, and when I could, I bit.

With each hand slapped away, with each digit crushed between my teeth, I began to notice something. The water, which had started out a murky navy-teal, began to slowly, very slowly, change. It became lighter, brighter, the space around me turning violet...

  
  
  


...and suddenly, I was thrashing on the ground, screaming, fists flying, a flurry of bodies above me, below me. A cacophony of voices-

“-Sasha-”

“Someone get Solas!”

“- _ Maker, _ Herald--!”

“Hold her!”

“EVERYONE GET BACK NOW!”

I was left panting on the packed dirt, pinned by an invisible hand, surrounded by familiar faces. Cullen, Cassandra, Giselle, Dorian, Vivienne, Solas, all looking as if they were involved in a barroom brawl.

Mother Giselle was the first to recover. “Your Worship,” she murmured softly. “Are you with us?”

I couldn’t move my head to nod, but I did manage to squeak. Giselle nodded to Solas, and I felt the weight lift off me. I took a deep breath- and coughed as pain shot through every bone in my body. “Oww,” I wheezed.

Cullen dropped to my side, and all I could do was stare at him. I heard Giselle say something about getting me back into bed, and although he did so carefully, it still hurt like hell when he deposited me on the platform.

“We must get her out of her armor,” Vivienne stepped into view. “Gentlemen, if you would-”

There was shuffling just out of view, and Cullen got up to leave, but I grabbed his hand. “Don’t go,” I pleaded. “Please, don’t go.”

He dropped back down to me. “Of course,” he whispered.

The tent emptied, save Cullen, Vivienne, and Giselle. The latter two worked to heal me- popping the shoulder back into place, setting bones and sending magic into the wounds to stitch it all back together.

In total, I had four broken ribs, a broken clavicle, a fractured wrist, and more lacerations than I could keep track of.

It was agony.

I gripped Cullen’s hand the entire time, and he hummed to me- the song from Redcliffe.  _ Illume says the candle that I burn… _

Hours later, they were done, and I was beyond exhausted. But every time I closed my eyes, I was back there, in the water.

In the end, what got me to sleep was Cullen setting up a bedroll of furs on the ground and holding me gently there, in his arms, my head on his chest, breathing in the scent of leather, sweetness, and the woods.

  
  


Two days of rest, a song, and a revelation about ancient elven magic later, we set out to find our new home. I was still in some not-insignificant physical pain, and wasn’t looking forward to hoofing it all the way there- wherever “there” ended up being- but thankfully, my dread was waylaid by the arrival of assistance from our allies: carts of supplies, druffalo to pull them, and horses.

I couldn’t ride by myself- there was almost no part of my torso that hadn’t been damaged between Haven and the camp, and I wouldn’t be able to handle the reins, much less hold myself upright in the saddle if something happened. So, with a gentleness I wouldn’t have thought possible, Bull lifted me and sat me comfortably in front of Cullen, and we rode off in search of a new home.

What should have been a day’s ride took almost four due to injury- mine, and others’- but we finally found it: Skyhold, a ruined fortress in the clouds.

It was a magnificent sight.

  
  


“The Inquisition requires a leader: the one who has  _ already _ been leading it.”

I stood on the step below Cassandra, gaping at her.

“Me? But I’m- I’m an outsider, and I’ve made  _ so many mistakes, _ stupid ones at that! You can’t seriously want me to  _ lead _ the Inquisition!”

Cassandra gestured to the crowd gathered below us. “Look at them. You may have started out as an outsider, but you have become one of us. Your mistakes prove that you are  _ human _ , a person, and that is what we need. You have shown compassion, determination, and grit, and along the way, have injected humor into our situation- whether we wanted it or not.” I looked out into the crowd. I could see the faces of everyone I had come to care for, all expectantly looking at me.

I’m not one to suffer stage fright, but even that sort of shit is intimidating.

“You will certainly not be alone in this. We will all be there, to support you when you need it, to catch you when you fall. But make no mistake: There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve, how you lead: that must be yours to decide.”

I picked up the sword Leliana offered- though lighter than I thought it would be, it was still a solid weapon, and I needed both hands to hold it. Painfully aware of my recent re-injury, I took a moment to steady myself, and to think before I spoke.

“The people of Thedas have seen much destruction, much pain in the past decade. The Blight, the Mage-Templar war, the subjugation of the elven people, and now this monster Corypheus. If I am to do this, then we will be doing it all. There will be change, and it will start here.”

“Wherever you lead us,” Cassandra told me. Then she shouted out: “Have our people been told?”

In the crowd, it was Josephine who answered. “They have, and soon the world.”

“Commander, will they follow?”

“Inquisition! Will you follow?”

The crowd yelled their affirmation.

“Will you fight?”

The second cheer was louder, scaring some birds off a broken walkway behind them.

“Will we triumph?”

They roared their approval, the sound of it thundering off the stones around us.

“Your leader! Your Herald! Your  _ Inquisitor! _ ”

That was my cue- I hefted the sword as high as I could. Immediately, though, I knew I couldn’t hold it for very long, in fact it was already slipping-

Except that Cassandra and Leliana stepped in to support me, to help me hold my burden high. The Left and Right Hands of the Divine held me steady as I became Inquisitor.

  
  
  


The four of us- Josephine, Leliana, Cullen, and I- wandered through the keep, past the Great Hall, exploring the place where we were going to set the world to rights.

Right off the bat, we found where we were going to plan out this war: at the end of a long hallway was a large room, with a  _ massive _ wooden table in the center. It had been made from a huge redwood tree, which was interesting enough, but what made it stand out was something carved in the center of the table.

“Look here,” Cullen drew our attention to it. “I recognize this glyph. Meredith had one carved into her desk by the Tranquil. It keeps prying ears from hearing conversations spoken around it.”

“How convenient,” drawled Leliana.

“And secure, if I make use of the room back there as my office,” Josephine pointed out.

I leaned my bum against the table, crossing my arms. “I’d prefer to have all our plans under lock and key.”

Cullen mirrored me, but with his hands on the pommel of his sword. “We’ll get Harritt on it, immediately.”

I nodded. “Good. Now, let’s go explore our new  _ castle! _ ” I grinned and turned towards the door.

  
  


We wandered up into the tower, Josephine and Leliana claiming adjoining rooms, and I mentally earmarking others for the members of my Inner Circle. We stopped when we came to the part of the tower where the stone steps stopped, and rotted wooden ones began.

“We’ll get the builders to fix that,” Josephine made a note on her writing board. “I am curious as to what is up there.”

“My guess? The Inquisitor’s quarters,” Leliana replied cheekily.

“Oh sure, make me climb the tall tower every night,” I joked.

The grin she gave me was pure impishness. “Well, I am sure you could get a handsome warrior to carry you up in his arms.”

I fought a losing battle over the goofy smile that threatened to overtake my face, and so turned away before the spymaster could get anything from me to continue her teasing. I caught Cullen’s eyes as I did so; he was completely red in the face as we climbed back down.

  
  


The keep dug much further down into the mountain than I would have ever guessed, and treasures abounded: furniture in various styles and states of disrepair; small, dusty libraries filled with cobwebs and books that obviously hadn’t seen light in decades, if not centuries; laundries with giant tubs and rooms with even larger casks, and other areas with brittle herbs hanging from the rafters and shelves lined with dusty bottles.

Eventually, we ended up at the end of a long corridor, faced with a large wooden door. It opened to a long room with built-in benches carved from the surrounding stone, glowing rocks laid into the ceiling to bathe the room in a warm golden light, and at the end of the room was another wooden door- with metal hinges rusted shut. It was curious that the room was warm, but with a breeze; even more curious was the roar that came from behind that second door. 

It took Cullen several good kicks, but eventually the wood of the door splintered, and the sight that greeted us was-

“Marvelous!” exclaimed Josephine. “How simply marvelous! A public bathing room- oh, look at these frescoes!”

Leliana and Josephine’s voices echoed as they wandered around the room, but I didn’t hear what they were saying. Instead, I sat down hard on the closest bench to me, trying not to freak out. I hadn’t expected that, and it threw me, hard. I leaned down as far down as I could, putting my face in my hands and closing my eyes and taking deep breaths.

I heard a bit of rustling and clanking, and realized Cullen was on his knees in front of me. I felt large, warm hands on my shoulders.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, soft and low. “It’s safe.  _ You’re _ safe.”

“I know,” I told him. My voice was barely a whisper. “It surprised me. I wasn’t prepared.”

“What can I do to help you?”

“Just- just stay with me, for a moment. I’ll be fine again, soon.”

“Of course.”

I took several deep breaths, and I became aware that the women in the next room had gone quiet. Finally, I was able to look up, the warm eyes and kind smile bringing one of my own to my lips. He rose, and gently helped me to my feet, and I saw the other two advisors watching me with concern on their faces.

I took one more deep breath. “I’m alright,” I told them. “Just… not fond of pools.” To Cullen, I said, “I think I’m done exploring for the day, if you are.”

“Of course. We have some things we need to discuss with the smiths, if you’re feeling up to it.” 

I gave him a warm smile. “Lead on, Commander.”


	15. Ĉio Ŝanĝas *NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this round of smut!

Since I had been injured-  _ again _ \- I was once again grounded. It was more interesting this time around, however, as I had a  _ job _ , and was called upon again and again for my Important Inquisitor Opinions.

We started out by sending Bull and the Chargers to hunt down that dragon in the Hinterlands. It had taken to gobbling up the odd traveler to the area, so it had to go. When Sera found out about the trip, she jumped on board. From that hunt, we acquired a decent amount of bone, skin, scales, and meat- the first three, we sent to Master Wade in Denerim, who  _ eventually  _ sent back some pretty nice lightweight armor and a few swords- I had to be careful with my movements, due to my messed-up shoulder. The dragon meat we had salted and smoked- apparently, it’s a favored Nevarran delicacy, and so it was preserved for diplomatic dinners.

Blackwall, Varric, and Dorian were sent to the Storm Coast to search for Grey Wardens and our missing soldiers. Cassandra, Vivienne, and Solas went to the Fallow Mire to look for  _ those _ missing soldiers. (It was damned annoying how often our troops were kidnapped just for shits and giggles.) The former group reported deaths; the latter, a hostage situation. Both required a fight from me. Oh, joy.

The new kid, Cole- I kept him back. Something about him was… off. I couldn’t figure him out. Hell, half the time I couldn’t even  _ remember _ him, let alone find him to chat. Until I could understand him better, I wanted to keep him close.

We made plans regarding our new home. Obviously, the first order was to make it safe, habitable, and pretty, in that order. Beyond that, we needed barracks and training grounds. In the long run, we’ll need to build a whole village- housing for soldiers’ families, for our workers, for the mages. Though the growing season would likely be shorter in the mountains, we’d have need of farmers to grow food, as Orlais had a civil war going, the Free Marches were too far to ship many foodstuffs beyond dried grains, and we could only expect so much from Ferelden. And then, of course, was the need for seamstresses and tailors, fletchers, millers, healers…

In short, the infrastructure of the Inquisition was mind-blowingly complex.

“It wasn’t like this, where I came from.”

It was a lovely clear night- yet another night of twin full moons. It was still trippy to see them, even though I’d gotten used to them- even though I’d come to love them. Seeing one a sliver while the other full reminded me of elementary school science classes, and how the teacher had us kids holding paper-mache planets and wandering in circles around each other.

We stood on the parapet above the gatehouse, leaning against the battlements and looking out to the tent city that had sprung up in the valley along the river. Such nights were our only “couple” times, until the important rebuilding projects- fixing walls and floors and generally making sure nobody would be killed by anything on the grounds- were finished and the work crews moved on to making the place comfortable. For now, our bedrolls were spread out amongst tents and areas of the keep that were deemed safe and clean enough to sleep in. 

“How so?” Cullen asked me.

“You didn’t know the person who made the things you needed. There wasn’t a town blacksmith, or seamstress, or baker- things were made  _ very _ far away, and were brought in to be sold. More often than not, you didn’t even know the shop owner. It was easier for the people who needed those things, but it sapped wealth out of some communities while destroying others.” I gave him a smile. “I like this way better. Harder work, but it means more.”

I felt his hand cover mine- he’d taken to leaving his gloves off on the odd chance we could steal a few moments alone. Unfortunately, the lack of privacy had meant only a few kisses here and there, and no follow-up to our intimacy in Haven. 

“I can’t say I can compare the two, but this life… it has to mean something.” The words tumbled out of him, soft, but fervent. “I used to think life was all suffering, until the time when you met the Maker. I’m glad to have been shown otherwise.”

I nodded, and smiled at him. But something was on my mind. Now seemed as good a time as any to ask about it.

“I… need to ask something.”

“What is it?”

“I asked this of Cassandra, but I want to hear your answer. And, eventually, Josephine and Leliana’s, too. Why did you make me Inquisitor?”

“Sasha…”

“Humor me.”

He gave me a good, thorough look, with the tiniest of smiles playing at his lips. “Alright.” He took a deep breath. “Some trick of fate, or luck, or the hand of the Maker put that mark on your hand. You didn’t, to the best of anyone’s knowledge, set out to acquire it, and it obviously causes you some amount of pain to use it, most of the time.”

He paused for a moment, letting his hand wander up my arm to caress my cheek, softly. “Yet use it you do, to heal the world, a world you have little stake in. Not only that, but you go out of your way to help people- the refugees in Haven, for example, and the mages in Redcliffe. You have even put your life on the line more times than I care to think of, spilled your own blood, caused yourself injury, to help others. You could have walked away at any time, but you didn’t. Does that answer your question?”

“Well… yes, but you all barely  _ know _ me. I haven’t told you where exactly I’m from, and I’ve managed to sidestep every attempt for anyone to figure it out.”

He chuckled at that. “I’m aware. I assure you, it has caused our diplomat and spymaster no small amount of frustration and irritation. It was quite the show, those first few days after you awoke but couldn’t speak to us, and Leliana could find no information about you.”

“I’m surprised I didn’t end up locked in the dungeon.”

“There was some discussion, but in the end, Josephine’s insistence on being gracious hosts would get us further than locking you up. It didn’t hurt that you’d had enough of Cassandra’s trust by then, as well.”

I went quiet at that proclamation, staring out over the valley below. Finally, I broke the silence.

“I want to tell you everything… but in private. Not out here.”

He nodded. “Head to the undercroft. I’ll be there shortly.” He then turned and headed towards the tower that was serving as the temporary barracks.

I crept quietly down the nearest stairs to the grounds, weaving my way around tents, and up into the keep, where I quietly dodged bedrolls. I thanked the gods that someone had recently oiled the hinges on the door to the undercroft as I eased it open, leaving the door ajar lest I make noise shutting it. I leaned against the railing on my bum, and waited, but not for long.

I almost didn’t hear Cullen entering- he had shed the metal bits of his daily garb, wearing his black leather breeches, a cream tunic, and his mantle. That man could startle a shadow if he  _ really _ wanted to. He locked the door behind him and turned, walking slowly to me with a kind smile on his face, carrying a grey woolen blanket.

“Let’s have a seat, shall we?” he asked, indicating the blanket.

We walked down the steps and he chose a spot where we could watch the waterfall, but not get wet, and we sat next to each other on the blanketed steps, thighs touching.

I took a deep, steadying breath. “So… where do I even start?”

“Well… if we had a map of Thedas in front of us, could you point out where you come from?”

“No.”

He looked at me in shock.

“I’m not from Thedas.”

“You’re from- beyond?” I wondered briefly if there was even a word for that in Common, but filed that question away for later.

“Where I come from… we know the whole world. We’ve  _ explored _ the whole world. And Thedas isn’t a part of it.”

He gaped at me. I took another deep breath, suddenly very nervous.

“I know, it’s a lot to take in. A lot to take on faith.”

“That’s why you didn’t know Common.”

“It is.”

“And-  _ oh Maker _ \- that’s why you said you didn’t have magic. I thought you just had very good Templars, or had managed to find ways to suppress mages from birth, or…”

“No. We had no magic, at all. Never had, and I doubt we ever would. No lyrium, and no Fade, either.”

“How did you dream?”

“With our minds, that’s it.”

_ “Maker.” _

He went quiet, for a good amount of time. I could see the cogs churning in his head, mulling it all over. Then he startled.

“Wait. You knew about Thedas. You told us, back in Haven.”

“Yes.” I took another deep breath. This was likely going to be the part where it all went to shit. “There’s… a series of stories, back where I came from, about this place. The first one was simply called ‘Dragon Age,’ and it was about the Fifth Blight. Specifically, it was told from the perspective of the Hero of Ferelden.”

He blanched, looking at me in horror.

“Cullen, before you ask… I didn’t see everything that happened in the Circle Tower. I know you were there, and I know something awful happened… but I didn’t see  _ what _ , precisely. And if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. Either way, that is something that I keep to myself.”

He seemed to relax for a moment. Then:

“You said there were multiple ‘stories’?”

“Yes, but I hadn’t read them all. The second one was called ‘Dragon Age 2’ and it was about Kirkwall, after the Blight. It was told through the eyes of Hawke.”

He groaned at that. I nodded, understanding the feeling.

“You saw-”

“Meredith go crazy and turn into a chunk of red lyrium? I did indeed. And Anders blowing up the Chantry, and the Qunari attacking the city, and where Corypheus  _ actually _ came from…”

I went quiet, because he did.

“Any other stories?”

I nodded. “I haven’t read them, though. Technically, I didn’t finish the second story- I was  _ very _ angry after Anders blew up the Chantry, and I stopped reading then, but I know how it ended. There was a story about how King Meric reclaimed the Ferelden throne, and one called ‘The Masked Empire’ which I assume was about Orlais. And some others that I don’t know much about.”

I left out the story about the Inquisition. No need to delve into  _ that _ can of worms, since I knew almost nothing about the game.

He said nothing, seeming lost in thought. He had a hell of a poker face. Then he spoke.

“Your world exists, but we know nothing of it. And your world knows of ours, but thinks it doesn’t really exist, that it’s a story. How? How would stories of Thedas be written in your world, but we have nothing?”

“The ‘Dragon Age’ stories were mostly written by one guy, although he had some help, presumably after he began telling the stories to other people. So maybe he was special, and had some sort of ‘window’ into this world?”

“But then- it wasn’t  _ just _ him, was it? You came here.”

It was my turn to look a little surprised. “I… hadn’t considered that. That is a very good point.” I sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe we will get more information as we go along.”

We both fell into silence again, then something else occurred to me.

“You… speak as though you believe me.”

“That’s- it’s complicated.”

“You’re not wrong. But would you tell me what you’re thinking? What you’re feeling?”

He chuckled. “I’m a Templar. I’ve seen likely more than my fair share of insanity and crazy things.” He eyeballed me, looking more amused than disturbed. “You act surprisingly sane, if you are mad. You obviously believe what you’re saying. And… I have come to trust you, trust your judgment.” He took my hand. “I wouldn’t-  _ couldn’t- _ be with you, otherwise.

“So.” He squeezed my hand. “I cannot entirely call it ‘belief.’ I have to think more about it, let it sink in, come to understand it. Perhaps you are right, and we  _ will _ get more information as we go along. For now, I would simply like to call it ‘suspension of disbelief.’”

I laughed. “I can live with that. As long as I haven’t scared you off.”

Suddenly, he grabbed me and pulled me sideways into his lap, kissing me as I squealed. He kissed me down the side of my face to my neck as I laughed.

“So, what’s on your mind?” I asked with a cheeky grin. “Smithing? Hoping to do a little  _ pounding? _ ”

He pulled back, briefly surprised before bursting into laughter.

“ _ Maker _ , I just wanted to spend a little time with you,” he chuckled.

I twisted in his lap, throwing a leg over to straddle him. It had the desired effect.

“So  _ that _ is what we’re calling this,” I teased as I wriggled my hips against the growing bulge in his breeches.

“My lady Inquisitor,” he growled, “it has been too long and you have teased me too much these past weeks.” 

He suddenly flipped us, snagging my lips in a crushing kiss- and banging my head against the step behind me.

_ “Aaahh-ow!” _ I exclaimed, rubbing the base of my skull. 

“Maker’s breath,” Cullen swore, the sexy act dropped in a heartbeat. “Are you hurt? Let me see.” Wrapping his hand around the curve of my head, he prodded gently at the spot, which had already stopped aching. This moment of tenderness had my attention in its entirety.

He stood on his knees, slipping off the mantle and quickly rolling it up, slipping it in the space under my head. “I am so sorry. I did not mean to cause you pain. Please forgive me.”

“Only if you kiss it to make it better.”

My cheekiness was rewarded with a low, sexy chuckle from him. “I’ll do my best,” he replied, lowering himself down to kiss me.

This kiss was slow, languid; an exploration, completely unlike the handful of fast, hot smooches stolen in empty halls and around corners that we’d had since getting to Skyhold. These were the kisses I  _ lived _ for: the ones that put us in a bubble. The kisses where I was cradled, cherished, safe from any and all who would do us harm. Not necessarily the type of kiss that would turn me into a drooling-at-both-ends nymphomaniac, but instead, put me completely at ease and let me forget that everything in this world wanted to kill me in some way. In short, a kiss that puts me in the mood to be put  _ in the mood _ .

I suspected that it was similar for Cullen- he had thoughts about  _ wanting _ sex- that he’d taken the steps to initiate first in Haven showed that- but he likely couldn’t relax enough to get aroused without taking the time to get into that headspace.

Perhaps this was something we’d have to work on later, but for now…

For now, the kiss had turned hot, and though he still had one hand cradling my head, the other began a slow descent down my body, past my ribs, my hips, to cup my bum and squeeze gently. My heart sped up a few beats, and I began my own exploration, dragging my nails softly down his back before sliding my hands up the back of his shirt, finding and running my fingers along the scars that crossed his flesh. He grunted at my touch, breaking the kiss to kiss and nibble down my face, my neck, trying to nuzzle into my beige button-up with little success.

“Damn it,” he cursed as he withdrew his hands, grasping at the garment with both hands and yanking it apart- only for the well-made blouse to not do his bidding, buttons and cloth staying bound.

I burst into laughter. “Allow me.” I giggled at his huff of frustration as I undid all the tiny, ornate hooks keeping the garment together. As the last one popped free, I lay back, and he followed me, his lips picking up where they’d left off. He worked his way across my freshly-healed collarbone and down my chest, licking and sucking at my nipples. My hands went to his head, running my fingers through those soft, lovely curls.

After a moment, he stilled, looking up at me with concern in his eyes. “Is- is this alright?”

“Huh?”

“My- uh-  _ attention _ to your- ah-”

“My ladies-in-waiting?” I joked, flashing my eyes downward to get my meaning across.

He laughed. “Last time, you seemed to enjoy my touching your  _ ladies-in-waiting _ much more than now.”

“Oh.” Right, he wouldn’t just know that, would he? “I had just pleasured myself, and touch is so much more… wonderfully intense right after. All over, in fact.”

His eyebrows rose as he smirked. “I see. I shall have to do something about that, won’t I?” He held the look as he plucked the ties to my cotton pants. A smile grew on my face as I helped him pull them down, taking my smallclothes as well, and he followed them, pulling off my boots and tossing them aside before yanking the clothes off my feet, stuffing them under my head for more cushioning.

“Now what do you plan to do down there?” I teased, wiggling my stocking-covered toes at him playfully. The cool mountain air felt delightfully sinful on my naked mound, and I could all but feel the blood rushing to the area.

He caught a foot and nipped at the ankle, slinking up my legs to hover above me, giving me a hot kiss. “Patience,” he murmured.

He settled himself between my legs, lifting mine onto his shoulders, and kissed my inner thighs.

I closed my eyes and focused on the sensations. He’d work his way from the widest part of my thigh inwards, stopping and switching to the other at the spot just before my labia that would make me moan. “ _ Cullen _ ,” I groaned as he did it for the fourth time, and I lifted myself up enough to see him grin at me before he parted me and  _ licked _ .

His tongue dragged up and around my clit, swirling around the nub before plunging back down. The first several swipes- while  _ fucking great _ \- were simply exploratory, I could tell, because after a short while, he seemed to nail all the sweet spots.

I laid back against the padded steps, panting and moaning as he lapped at me. His hands gripped my thighs firmly for leverage, pulling us closer together, harder. I don’t recall when I threaded my fingers through his hair, but I found myself doing just that as I writhed against his face.

He then sucked my clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue around it, and I saw stars as I came,  _ hard _ .

I rode his mouth through the convulsions, grasping at his skull in what I later hoped was more pleasurable than painful. I lay there gasping after as he peppered my thighs, my belly, my breasts with tiny kisses and nibbles.

“Where did the Inquisition’s virginal commander learn  _ that _ ?” I joked breathlessly.

A chuckle rolled through his mouth, which was on my left tit. “I wouldn’t know. The troops are so well known for their chaste language and innocent minds, as I’m certain you’re quite aware,” he quipped back at me.

My giggle turned into a groan as he made his way to That Wonderful Spot on my neck, and I grasped at his shirt, wanting a taste of his skin myself. I managed to get a grip on the fabric and pulled, nearly getting it over his head before he laughed and sat up to finish the job. As he tossed the garment aside, I worked on the laces of his breeches, peeling the leather and cotton of his clothes down to reveal his engorged cock. What goes ‘round comes ‘round, and so I decided to tease him, taking him in hand and pressing an ironically chaste kiss to the tip of the swollen red head. I drew my tongue up and down his shaft, swirling around the crevices and creases at the tip, then taking him into my mouth- but just a little.

“ _ Maker _ ,” he exclaimed as I sucked. And then I felt myself pulled upright onto my knees- gently- into a rough kiss, held tight against his naked torso. “I want to be inside you,” he murmured against my mouth.

“Sit, like you were earlier.” He let me go, sitting against the steps, and I straddled him, pressing my wetness against him, but not yet guiding him in. Instead, I rubbed against him, spreading my moisture, enjoying the feel of him against my most sensitive areas. He growled, and I leaned in to nibble at his shoulder, nipping and licking up to murmur in his ear.

“You’re welcome to do the honors,” I told him, and shifted up a bit so he could. I cupped his face with my hands and kissed him hard as I felt his hand moving, guiding himself to my entrance. With both hands he grasped my bum and slid me closer, impaling me fully.

Slowly, I began rocking against him, savoring the feel, the wonderful drag of his flesh against mine. He kept his hands on my bum, their callused warmth a welcome feeling.

I felt the first edges of orgasm start to build as he sucked my right nipple into his mouth, twirling his tongue on it as he had with my clit, before moving to the left one. The analogous part began to throb as he did so, switching between breasts, and I ground it against his pelvis, moaning in sweet agony.

I became aware of his grunts, of sweat breaking out on his brow, of his grip on my bum becoming demanding, of him dragging my hips back and forth roughly. I became aware of my breath coming in pants, of my fingers grasping his hair, holding his head to my breast.

And then I was at the edge of that plateau,  _ nearly there _ , moaning, crying out to be pushed over that edge, and Cullen moaned with my tit still in his mouth as he bucked underneath me, and I felt the warmth of his release, and I fell with a cry, leaning on him to keep myself upright as I came, as I felt him coming inside me.

All I could do was hold him. All he could do was hold  _ me _ .

I don’t know how long we sat like that, folded around each other, listening to each others’ breaths, slowly floating down from our high. We both knew something profound had just happened, something more than two bodies coming undone together. I felt it. He said it.

“I love you.”


	16. Hazarde Venkanta *NSFW

It was agreed that my archery days were likely over, unless we could build a lightweight version of Bianca. Varric would only allow someone to handle her in his presence, and he got more than a little antsy when they started removing bits, so copying her design was out for the time being. To that end, when I was deemed fit to resume training, I was handed something called a “dussack” and a lightweight wooden shield, and Cullen was given the unenviable task of trying to help me figure out a fighting style that wouldn’t re-injure my left shoulder.

It didn’t go well. Although to be fair, it didn’t go  _ horribly _ , either.

It just meant that I took  _ everybody _ with me, no matter where I went, until I could hold my own. And so, Cassandra, Vivienne, and Solas were told to meet us on the Storm Coast, Sera, Bull, and the Chargers were ordered back to Skyhold, and when they arrived, we set off- along with Cole.

I still hadn’t quite figured him out. I’d found him, after we’d sent everyone out on their respective assignments, tending to the wounded- if it could be called that, entirely. We’d watched a soldier die, him telling me her last thoughts, and asked for my approval to end the pain of another.

He seemed happy that I denied his request.

“You're too bright. Like counting birds against the sun. The mark makes you more. But past it... You came across, mindful, meaning. You were pulled through to this side, made real here.”

“I- what?” I’d taken to occupying my mind on this trip by translating songs as best I could into Common. I’d only made progress on a couple of relatively simple ones, “La Bamba” by Ritchie Valens and Counting Crows’ “Counting Stars.” Fleetwood Mac’s “The Chain” wasn’t going too well, and Cole’s interruption had made me forget what I’d had already.

“You don’t belong, but you do. You weren’t real there. You are here.”

“Ah… okay? I’m sorry, Cole, but I don’t know what to say to that.”

“That’s alright. Most people say nothing. You help them anyway.”

“I try. I hope I do well by them.”

“You do.”

With that, he rode his horse up by Bull’s to compliment the Qunari’s horns, leaving me utterly confused.

  
  
  


“Fuck me.”

I leaned against Bull, exhausted and winded, and wiped the blood from my face. I didn’t know whose blood it was; it could’ve been mine, it could’ve been the mabaris’, or it could have been the Hessarian leader’s.

The tooth on the ground was definitely mine, though.

“My dear, do pick that up. I know the best barber in Val Royeaux. She will be able to reattach it,” Vivienne said as she sat on a nearby bench, as annoyingly composed and regal as ever.

It was an odd fight. The Blades of Hessarian had let us in when they saw the necklace I wore, but right away it was made clear that I would only be allowed one other person to fight alongside me. It was complete bullshit, since the leader had  _ two _ mabaris, but I made my choice count, picking Bull to stand beside me, and I knew that if worse came to worse, Bull would get me out while the remainder of the party slaughtered the remaining Blades.

It turned out that I needn’t have worried about it. While the Hessarian leader did manage to get a few good swipes in- hence the busted tooth- in the end, it wasn’t skill or fitness that did the trick, but a freak rock slide.

Bull and I each had a mabari to contend with, while the leader roared before rejoining the fray. Except he didn’t get that chance.  Out of nowhere, a boulder came bounding down the hill to the leader’s back, bouncing over the high wooden walls of the fort and crushing the man’s skull.

The shock of it had my normally chatty friends mostly silent.

“Your Worship,” said a young man in blue. “The Blades of Hessarian are at your service. We stand ready to follow you into battle.”

“Just like that?” I asked, suspicious.

“The Maker has spoken, Your Worship. And besides, the last guy was an asshole.”

“R-right, then,” I mumbled, a bit shaken by the weirdness of the fight. “What’s your name?”

“Cadoc, ma’am.”

“Cadoc, I am naming you the liaison between the Blades and the Inquisition. You will take your orders from Commander Cullen Rutherford, the leader of my army. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Your Worship.”

“Good.” I turned to the rest of my crew. “Let’s get back to camp.”

  
  
  


We closed all the documented rifts in the area, then headed southward, taking a boat across Lake Calenhad (taking three days off our journey), intending to stop in Redcliffe to meet with the representative of House Pavus before heading to the Fallow Mire. The meeting… didn’t quite go entirely as planned.

We were camped in the Rebel Queen’s Ravine, a name I had recently come to understand and appreciate after reading about the Orlesian occupation and the war that freed Ferelden. Everyone but a few guards had gone to bed, and I sat with Dorian around a campfire. He was quiet, had been since we left the tavern, and his silence had me worried.

“Did I do the right thing?”

His question startled me. The stillness of the night had only been broken up by the odd crackle of the fire, a chirp from a bird out in the distance, a ram bleating. Briefly, I thought back to the meeting. Dorian had asked me to accompany him, a task I was more than willing to do, to support the man who had become a dear friend to me. What had followed was a slow crescendo from shock to anger, as father and son alike lobbed barbs, accusations, and guilt back and forth, finally resulting in Dorian storming off.

As I followed Dorian out the door, I looked back at the broken old man we’d left behind.

“I don’t know,” I told him. “I don’t know if there  _ was _ a ‘right thing’ in that situation.” I gave him a sad smile. “My parents… they did something like that to me. I’ll tell you about it later, but for now, know this: I got out, and I never went back. Never spoke to them again. Never opened one of their letters. And now, I wish I could, I wish I could talk to them again, just once. I’d at least send them a letter, if I could. That’s not to say that’s what  _ you _ should do,” I looked at him pointedly. “I’ll stand behind anything you decide. You’re my friend and I love you, you big homo.”

“‘Homo’? What in Andraste’s name is a ‘homo’?”

We ended the night with smiles and laughter as I explained American gay culture.

  
  
  


“Is this- a  _ thing _ with you now, Boss?”

“Damned if I know.”

We’d barely broken a sweat taking out the Hand of Korth and his cronies, probably because we hadn’t actually done it. Bull and Cassandra had managed to get a couple swipes in, and Vivienne had gotten one of them a bit frosty, but what had done it, ultimately, was lightning striking the mad warrior as he stood at the top of the keep, zapping his cohorts before it fizzled out. I turned to the other two mages in our group, who both vehemently shook their heads.

I heard a burly laugh behind me. “Your god watches out for you, lowlander.”

  
  
  


After the wet of the seaside and the slime of the bog, heading back to Skyhold was a relief, and the trip was made all the better- for me, at least- with the addition of Amund, the Avvar Sky-Watcher. A lively, thoroughly entertaining discussion of Avvar beliefs, compared and contrasted with mythology from Earth, kept my mind from the discomfort of soggy britches against the saddle.

I especially couldn’t wait to tell Cullen about Rilla of the Fireside, thinking an invocation to the Avvar god of babymaking could be useful in the distant future.

We arrived back in a much better looking Skyhold with little fanfare, Dennet still giving me the stinkeye as he took the reins of my mare and led her to the rebuilt stables. Exhausted, our group trudged up the steps to the upper courtyard and into the keep, meeting Josephine at the entrance with a footman.

“We did not expect you back so soon!” the Ambassador exclaimed.

Varric got to her first. “We had some help with the tasks at hand,” he chuckled.

“So I heard. Falling rocks and  _ lightning _ ?” 

“Don’t say it, Josephine,” I growled at her.

“I shall refrain. My friends,” she said a little louder, addressing my companions. “We have assigned you quarters in the keep. Please follow Bernardo.” The footman in question bowed low before leading the group off.

“Inquisitor, I am sorry, but we do not yet have your quarters finished. We do have a temporary room ready-”

“-Which I informed the Lady Ambassador will not be necessary.” Cullen strode from the rotunda, taking my hand and planting a kiss on it as he bowed. My heart did a series of flips at the move, and I’m not certain, but I  _ may _ have spontaneously ovulated at that moment. I did my best to keep it from my face, though.

“There is room enough for you in my quarters,” he continued, “should you wish to share.”

“It would not be proper-”

“Josephine,” I interrupted. “I’m reasonably certain I am beyond ‘proper’ by now.”

She sighed. “I suppose you are right. Take some time to wash and rest, then come by to see me, Inquisitor.  _ Today. _ I have some news you will want to hear.”

I nodded, taking Cullen’s offered arm and let him guide me to his quarters.

  
  


It turned out that his quarters were in a tower on the battlements overlooking the solitary path to the keep. As I washed with the ice-cold water from the basin (teeth chattering like mad), Cullen attempted to not watch me, instead puttering around the room, lighting the brazier and pulling out clothing I could borrow until my things were moved from my temporary quarters.

It was adorable, and of course, I sought to disrupt it.

“Could I borrow your comb?” I put myself just in line of the corner of his eye, so he’d catch a glimpse of my wet, nude breasts. He made an odd sort of grunt and dug it out of a dresser drawer, holding it over his shoulder at me. I took it- still in view- and stood up on my tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek, which was tomato red by this point.

I worked a few of the kinks out of my shoulder-length hair (it had really grown rather quickly in Thedas), and discovered a few scratches on my back and scalp that became my next round of torture for my lover.

“Do you have any of that oakmoss-elfroot cream? I have a few small wounds that need tending to.”

He cleared his throat. “Of course,” he said in his Commander voice. He pulled the jar out of the same dresser drawer, and I walked back into his view while he tried to ignore me.

“Will you help me? They’re in spots I can’t reach-”

“ _ Maker _ , Sasha.” Exasperated, he drew a long breath in through his nose and out his mouth. “We both have things we need to attend to-”

“I was told to take a moment to rest-”

“Yes, but Josephine has important information-”

“-Which will keep for another hour.

I stood on my toes again, this time pressing a kiss to his lips. He groaned and put his arms around me.

“I want to, but we don’t have the time.”

I grabbed his ungloved hand and guided him to my vag. Nearly a month’s absence and several minutes of teasing had worked magic on me and I groaned as I felt him stick a finger into my wetness.

“Just get rid of the metal bits and we’ll  _ make _ the time.”

That did the trick. In just a few short moments his armor lay discarded on the floor and he was kissing me, roughly, fingers dragging through my still damp hair as he pulled me in. I worked the laces to his breeches clumsily before frustration took over and I yanked them down his hips, snagging his smallclothes on the way, and he was free and poking me in the stomach, already hard.

I grasped him, and the next second, found myself laying on the bed with him over me and his mouth on mine. He ground his dick against my clit and I moaned as his lips trailed across my face to my neck, quick kisses and light nips to That Wonderful Spot on my neck and he slipped in me and I almost came just then.

With his face buried against my shoulder and my arms wrapped around him, grasping at his back, he rode me hard. I caught myself murmuring in his ear as I was swept away, my whisperings making him moan in mine, and in no time those things I purred became affirmations of joy, of love- of pleasure.

I bit him as I came, and he slammed in me one final time and stilled. I held him, the both of us panting with the occasional moan, and eventually had the presence of mind to kiss the bite mark on his neck, in hopes of soothing it.

“Sweet Andraste,” he growled against my shoulder. 

“If she’s the one in charge of our sex life, then I should thank her, as well.”

“I’ll make certain to remind you later,” he chuckled.

“I doubt I’ll need a reminder,” I purred in his ear. “I intend to be on my knees later tonight anyway.”

“Minx.”

“And you love me that way.”

He rolled off and gathered me close. “I  _ had _ wanted to welcome you back properly, you know,” he groused in mock indignation.

I grinned up at him. “You still can… after we meet with Josephine. In fact, we could see what we can scrounge up for dinner, bring it back here, and lock ourselves in for the night.”

  
  


We lay together, naked and completely sated, looking at the stars through the hole in Cullen’s roof.

“Is it really a masquerade ball if all the guests wear masks in their everyday lives?” I asked, and got a deep chuckle in reply.

“You have me there.”

“I thought I had you here.” I cupped his soft cock with a grin, and he grabbed my wrist to pull me off with a playful growl. He used that wrist to roll me onto my back, hovering above me with a mock stern look that had me giggling. “What, are you not up to the challenge of another go?”

“ _ Maker, _ no, you’ve exhausted me, woman.” To illustrate, he slumped against me, holding himself up  _ just enough _ not to squash me, using my breasts as his pillow, and I giggled helplessly at the melodrama of it.

I toyed with his hair, thinking. “So what does the Grand Game entail, precisely?” I asked after a moment.

“Backstabbing- both literal and figurative- ruinous rumors, espionage, and assassins.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“You joke, but it  _ will _ be dangerous.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.” I gently pulled a curl from his head and watched it spring back.

He frowned at me. “I hope you’re having fun.”

“I am,” I giggled. “I love your hair. Also, I intend to have fun at the Winter Palace. We’ll save the Empress, and then I would very much like to dance with you.”

“I’m… not one for dancing. The Templars never attended balls.”

I stroked his cheek. “I could teach you a dance from my world. We could utterly baffle the Orlesian court.”

I caught the upper part of his grin- the lower being hidden by my chest- and felt the rumble of his chuckle against my skin. “I think I would enjoy that.”


	17. Svingado *NSFW

I ended up being stuck at Skyhold for quite awhile longer than expected. It turns out that while I’m passable at dancing, Orlesian etiquette completely trips me up. It seemed silly to me that the only person able to close rifts wasn’t allowed to go out and do that, instead being cooped up learning about how not to offend Orlesian nobles. In this, I was overruled unanimously by my council, including, to my surprise, my staunchly plebeian commander.

And thus, my schedule became this: awaken to an empty bed (as Cullen got up before the rooster’s crow for training) to the sunshine streaming in through the windows and hole in the ceiling. Take breakfast with Josephine, which doubled as an etiquette lesson. Training with the three teachers Leliana had acquired in stealth and efficient use of daggers, since I could no longer rely on my bow skills. A light lunch (and more etiquette lessons) before dance lessons with Vivienne, which were required of all my companions as well. Then, dinner followed by book studies of various topics ranging from history to arcane knowledge until either Dorian grew too annoyed with me, or I faceplanted in exhaustion and Cullen was sent to fetch me back to his quarters. On nights with the former, the day typically ended with a bang- if you catch my meaning.

Occasionally, the day was interrupted with more interesting matters, such as a war council meeting. One day, Vivienne invited me to tea.

“My dear,” she eventually got around to saying after a few rounds of small talk. “You simply  _ must _ tell me your secret.”

“My… secret?”

“You have yet to visit the alchemist, I am aware.”

“I- what does that have to do with anything?”

She took a sip of her tea, and said, mysteriously: “Do tell me what it is that fuels your amazing powers of contraception.”

I choked on my own tea.

“Everyone is aware of your relationship with the Commander, my dear. And it simply wouldn’t do to have the Inquisitor fall pregnant out of wedlock. And especially in the middle of a war.”

“Ah- uh- of course not,” I muttered. Though the balcony door was wide open and a refreshing breeze passed through the Great Hall, it suddenly felt stiflingly hot where I sat.

“Unless, of course, the Commander relieves your frustrations in other ways, if he is unable to-”

“Wait a minute,” I interjected. “Are we seriously talking about this? And did you just question Cullen’s virility…?”

“I am simply concerned for you, and for the Inquisition, my dear,” she told me, staring at me over her teacup. I sat mine down and rubbed my temple.

“Back where I came from, we had a number of ways to prevent pregnancy. I had one of the more… semi-permanent ones, called an ‘intrauterine device,’” I said in English before translating to Common. “It’s this tiny contraption which is placed in the womb by a specially trained healer, and it lasts for a number of years before it must be removed. It is  _ extremely _ effective.”

One fully embarrassing hour later (during which I had to find ways of deflecting Vivenne’s distrust of the IUD, and then later her insistence that all female mages should be forcibly implanted) I stopped by Cullen’s office.

He was stooped over his desk, staring at some reports, but shot me one of his gorgeous smiles as I entered and shut the door behind me. “Yes?”

“Ah… I would just like to make you aware of the, um,  _ interesting _ chat I had with Vivienne over tea.”

“Is there something the matter?”

“She- um- questioned me about- c-contraception and your… virility.”

“Oh-  _ Maker’s breath, _ really?” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You told her about that- what did you call it?”

“IUD.”

“And my  _ virility _ ?”

“In the context of ‘how aren’t you pregnant, my dear?’” I did my best Viv impression, and he snorted.

“Andraste preserve me,” he muttered. “I wonder what she’ll do with- that.”

“I defended you, I promise!”

“I’ve no doubt you did,” he chuckled. “ _ Maker. _ Well, thank you for the warning. I’ll make certain to avoid her like the Blight.”

  
  
  


A short while after the barber-mage from Val Royeaux reattached my tooth (which, by the way, hurt worse than getting it knocked out in the first place), we had a visitor. Of course, anyone with half a brain would have guessed from Varric’s hints that we’d be hosting the Champion of Kirkwall, but I almost didn’t expect Garrett Hawke to seem so…  _ normal.  _ The way Varric talked up their adventures had made the man seem larger than life- even larger than how he appeared in the game. And yet, he was quiet, soft spoken, even a little shy. But after I talked him into shucking the breastplate he wore and splitting a bottle of wine with me right there on the battlements, he turned out to be wickedly funny. I didn’t get a whole lot of information about Corypheus (that I didn’t already know from actually playing the Legacy DLC), but at least I had a source for my unknowable knowledge, and had a great time getting it.

That is, until I asked him about Anders.

“So: You hid away your Warden brother to keep him safe, but you left him with Anders? The man who blew up a Chantry, killing hundreds?”

“I couldn’t let Corypheus-”

“-influence the mind of a crazed terrorist.”

The doubletake I got from Varric told me I’d just gone a bit too far. Hawke went quiet, set down his mug and stood from his chair, taking a few slow steps towards the lip of the battlement. “You think you know Anders. Care to enlighten me, Inquisitor?”

Fuck me. That was a stupid thing for me to say.

“Hawke, I am so sorry, that was-”

“No, let’s set it all straight. Obviously, I don’t condone Anders’ actions, and neither does he. He’s tried since then to help as much as he can, but he knows he cannot undo his actions. He can’t heal death.”

He turned back to me, amber eyes sparking like the staff on the ground next to his chair, and I could see how this was the dude who fought and triumphed against the Arishok. 

“Bombing the Kirkwall Chantry wasn’t an overnight decision. He didn’t go to bed ‘normal’ one day and wake up a crazed killer the next. Consider this, Inquisitor: You’re a young child, and one day, something beyond your control turns your family and friends against you. You are dragged away in chains from everything and everyone you have ever known and locked away. Traumatized, you don’t speak for _a whole year_. The people around you don’t even know your name, so they give you a nickname that’s meant to be offensive, and it sticks. You attempt to escape time after time, only to be dragged back, put in solitary confinement for yet another year, beaten, and worse.

“You then manage to get away from the last time, but the only reason it sticks is because you agree to sign your life away and get eaten alive, slowly, by the Blight. You make a friend, but he’s slowly dying too, and there’s only one way to save him- to become an abomination. And when your friend joins with you, he changes, corrupts, blankets your already fragile sanity with a layer of rage. The next five years are a whirlwind of death and destruction, and all the while you can feel the thinness of the Veil around you, and hear the spirits and demons pressing against its cracks, whispering to you.

“That’s Anders.” Hawke picked up his cup and drained it while I looked on, stunned into silence. “It’s a wonder he didn’t lose his mind long ago. Yes, we’re still together. And he’s safe, tucked away somewhere he won’t be used by Corypheus, and Carver is keeping an eye on him. And when the world has been saved again, we’ll be together. We’ve done enough.”

He then set the cup back down on the ground and walked towards the stairs, to his room in the keep, presumably. Varric sat quietly with me for a long time while I processed what just happened.

“Don’t sweat it, Inquisitor. He keeps that up his sleeve, just for this type of thing. You’ve learned something, and it will be good in Crestwood- or, as good as it can be with the end of the world bearing down upon us.”

With that, Varric drained his cup, too, and wandered away in the direction of the tavern.

  
  
  


As much business was wrapped up in the next two days as possible. Everyone was measured for their Winter Palace outfits, I churned through a stack of reports in my temporary office in the bowels of the keep, and last-minute repairs and replacements were made to weapons and armor. In the evenings, Cullen and I had preparations of our own to make in his tower bedroom.

“Keep hold of my hands, for now,” I said, facing him. He wore faded black lightweight linen trousers and I an ankle-length cream-colored slip, inadvertently matching his shirt. On top, I simply wore a breastband- the only time I did so, as I’ve never seen much of a point of binding my barely-B cups.

“I’ll count to four, then we move. 1-2-3-4--” We both stepped to the right, then back left, in good rhythm with each other as I counted. He had definitely gotten the hang of it, especially after I likened the steps to footwork in fighting.

“Shall we go to a  _ promenade _ ?” He asked. I grinned at him cheekily.

“You just want to get closer to me, all half-naked here,” I teased, but moved into the slightly open V-shape in his embrace.

“ _ Always, _ ” he growled through a grin of his own.

We continued in the rhythm of our steps for a moment, then I nodded at him to take the lead, and he did.

He spun me slowly with an arm over my head, pushing me away from his body, then pulled me in for a sugar push- a move that had our chests touching briefly before being forced away again- and a wrap in-and-out. I beamed at him as we moved- I had taught him the moves, and here he was, selecting them from his mind and putting them into practice in the order he wished, and he was getting quite good at it, too, for all the short amount of time we’d had to practice, for all he worried he’d be terrible at it.

We danced for several long moments before he surprised me, pulling me in abruptly for a long kiss, and I felt my heart speed up. Still, we continued moving, lips locked, until my legs touched the bed, and I realized he’d danced me right to it. I chuckled through the kiss and felt him grin.

“I may have another dance on my mind,” he murmured against my lips, and I felt my skirt rise up my legs.

  
  
  
  


I stood on the platform in bermuda shorts and a hot pink tee, grinning widely at the experience to come. I was next in line to board the rollercoaster, and if the grins and maniacal screams of laughter were any indication, it was going to be a hell of a ride.

It was one of those “standing coasters,” where you straddled a seat you weren’t supposed to sit on and pulled a set of padded bars down over your shoulders. As the lock clicked into place and the train rolled out of the covered boarding area, a giggle left my throat-  _ This is gonna be fun! _

Ahead of me, the other cars began to fade, turning into flower petals on the wind; the seats on either side of me did, as well, and I knew that if I cared to look behind me, those would be gone, too. That didn’t matter; I knew I wasn’t on this ride alone.

My straps had become flowering vines, gently holding me in place as my flower-petal car began chugging up the incline. My heart began to race, I sucked in greedy breath after greedy breath, and the seat-you’re-not-supposed-to-sit-on closed in on me, surprisingly soft where I expected hardness, and  _ it felt good _ .

The car chugged to a stop at the top of the hill, then let loose, sending me down into spirals and loops, and the vibrating from the not-seat setting my nerves on fire-

I opened my eyes and I was naked in bed with my lover’s face between my legs, almost  _ there _ . Cullen’s eyes met mine as he gave me half of a wicked grin- the other half buried against my clit- and the sight caused me to tumble,  _ hard _ , my orgasm a car crash at 90mph into a wall of steel and brick.

Spasm after spasm rolled through me,  _ much _ too much but still not enough. His tongue was as much an instrument of destruction as it was of creation, and I was overwhelmed by the sensation. “ _ Cullen _ ,” I eventually managed to gasp, “get in me,  _ now! _ ”

He obliged swiftly, pinning me in one smooth stroke, and I clamped around him- legs, fingers, and cunt. He began to move, grinding against me, moaning in my ear as he no doubt felt the still-present spasms of my lingering orgasm.

I had only one coherent thought:  _ I just can’t stop coming. _ Lightning struck at his every touch, utterly frying me as fingers trailed across breasts, down my sides, against my thighs. I was all but out of my mind when he stilled, and I felt the warmth of his spend trickling down my bum.

Slowly, we came back to each other, foreheads pressed together and panting hard. He kissed me deeply before rolling off me, gathering me close in his arms. I moaned as the last spasm rolled through me as we parted, my thighs clamping shut of their own accord as I writhed in pleasure.

“You,” I panted out, “absolutely have my permission to wake me every morning like that.”

A deep chuckle reverberated in my ear and Cullen nibbled it. “Noted. I’d hoped to send you to Crestwood thinking of me, but it may be a double-edged sword. I doubt that I’ll be able to focus on work with the memory of this morning playing in my head.”

“You are a wicked, wicked man,” I growled as I moved in for his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How to dance like Sasha and Cullen:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jkI-b5qrgis   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hEzyT0LJ8F4
> 
> :-)


	18. Malicaj Viroj

He was, indeed, a wicked, wicked man, a thought that occupied me the entire ride to the shores of Lake Calenhad, where we would take a boat to Crestwood. The residual aftershocks of the morning stayed with me all day, keeping my face and ears beet red, a fact that a certain subset of my companions deemed hilarious and teased me mercilessly for the entire trip.

“Sittin’ a bit funny in the saddle, Boss.”

“Bull, did you see her  _ Cully-Wully _ this morning? Struttin’ ‘round all smug, like he shits gold bricks!”

“I’m pretty certain Cullen would be walking very differently than that if he were shitting bricks of any sort,” Blackwall snorted.

I wanted to be mad at their teasing, but in the end, I couldn’t. Besides being wickedly funny and keeping me in stitches the whole ride there, each of them risked their lives every day for me, and the more of these missions we went on, the more I knew it wasn’t just because I was the Inquisitor.

  
  


The jokes mostly stopped when we got to Crestwood, except for the odd “I  _ do _ hope our dear Commander makes you  _ this _ wet,” crack from Dorian. Walking corpses aren’t so funny, really.

We took shelter in an abandoned farmhouse while coming up with a plan to take Caer Bronach, but in the end, all it took was a few of Sera’s arrows, Bull’s cleaver, and a bunch of shit-talk to clear out the bandits. From the castle, we split up: Inquisition soldiers babysat the now-empty keep. Bull, Dorian, Varric, and Cole came with me to see to that rift that was spawning shamblers, Blackwall and Sera went with Hawke to track down his still-unnamed Warden ally, and Cassandra and Vivienne went out hunting the rest of the bandit group that was terrorizing the town. 

We ended up staying underground for nearly three days, the catacombs, caves, and dwarven ruins extending much further underground than originally thought. We arrived back to a bustling, cleared-out keep filled with Leliana’s agents, the caves of the highwaymen empty, and a frustrated Hawke with no Warden save Blackwall.

“The land is peppered with cave systems, and we can’t seem to find the right one,” Hawke confided in me that evening. After that night in Skyhold, we’d managed to mend our differences, starting with a sincere apology on my part.

Pulling me off to the side and away from the rest of the party, he continued. “That Warden ally of yours? Blackwall? I’d be careful around him, if I were you.”

The confusion must have shown on my face. “Anders told me about Warden abilities. Blackwall doesn’t possess them.”

“He can’t sense others with the Blight, can he?” I asked, my heart slowly sliding from its spot to my gut. Hawke shook his head.

“I won’t ask how you know that, but you’re on the right track. He can’t sense the Blight. He’s also too damned healthy to have been a Warden for as long as he says he has been.”

“Fuck me.” I rubbed my face. “Right. I’ll alert Leliana. In the meantime, do you think he’s a danger to anyone?”

“I don’t know. My gut says no, but that’s not something I’d like to go on at this time. Let’s just keep an eye on him.”

I nodded, and went in search of Charter, Leliana’s second-in-command.

  
  


We all split up into sets of two and three- Dorian with me, Varric (who was clued in about our false Warden) with Hawke and Blackwall. I still didn’t know who we were looking for; neither Hawke nor the group of Wardens we ran into would say his name. All Hawke would tell me is, “You’ll know when you meet him.”

Fuck me, but I did.

We were wandering through a cave when I heard the scrape of metal against metal, a sword being pulled from its sheath, and turned a corner to nearly be impaled upon the weapon in question. I stared down the blade pointed at my sternum and followed it up to the man holding it, and, like an idiot, nearly broke out into a stupid grin.

I took a moment to compose myself, raising my hands to show no harm meant, and tilted my head a bit to say to Dorian, “Hey Dorian. Run back to camp and write to Ambassador Montilyet, will you? Tell her we’re going to need cheese.  _ A lot _ of cheese.”

The man’s eyebrow quirked up in an unasked question as Dorian answered with a pained huff, “Only if your new Templar friend stops Smiting me, so I can breathe again!”

“Sir Alistair,” I slowly pulled my glove off to reveal my glowing hand, “I’m not here to cause you harm.”

“You’re the Inquisitor,” he said, in surprise. I nodded, lowering my hands as he put the sword away. Behind me, I heard Dorian taking deep breaths- I imagine being hit with a magical move called “Smite” probably wasn’t all that fun.

“I’ll- ah- I’ll head back to camp and let everyone know where you are- and then take a nap, if you don’t mind,” Dorian said, still sucking down breaths. I nodded, giving him a smile, and watched as he fumbled with the runestone we were using as a signaling system as he left.

“So you’re Hawke’s Warden friend.”

“I suppose so.”

“Well,” I leaned against the wall of the cave. “I guess we should wait for him, then.”

“I guess so.”

It got awkwardly quiet. What do you say to the video game dude you romanced? Damned if I knew.

“So… you fought the archdemon…” I started. Anything to break up the tension. He sighed.

“Yes, that was me. War, betrayal, darkspawn. All lots of fun and made for excellent stories, I’m sure. Nobody cares about that anymore. I answer to Warden Commander Clarel now, like everyone else.”

Fuck me. I tried not to let my disappointment show on my face. “Not Warden Commander Surana?”

“No. She left, on a mission of her own, before any of this… Corypheus stuff started to happen.”

“You know about Corypheus?”

“Let’s wait for Hawke.”

“Of course. Ah, what was Surana’s mission- if you don’t mind me asking?”

He walked over to me, folding his arms and joining me in holding up the rock.

“Something… personal. Something related to Warden secrets.”

“There’s quite an awful lot of those, I’m aware.”

That got a chuckle from him. “You have  _ no _ idea. They’re quite fond of keeping secrets. This one… ah. It’s sort of related, but… Have you heard of the Calling?”

“The thing that lets Wardens know the Taint in their blood is starting to turn them into ghouls.”

He gaped at me. “How did you know  _ that _ ?”

I gave him a small smile. “You could say I’m a bit of a fan.”

He chuckled again, shaking his head. “Well, normally we take that as a sign it’s time to say your goodbyes and head to the Deep Roads, to die fighting and take as many darkspawn with you as possible. But we… don’t want to do that. We want to live our lives free of the Taint, to retire and have a home, children, maybe breed mabaris- why are you grinning at me like that?”

“Sorry,” I chuckled. The man was Ferelden all the way through. “I didn’t know you two were together. I’m surprised you’re not with her.”

“Oh, there was a discussion, believe me. Someone had to look into the rumors about Corypheus. We, ah, didn’t know what that involved, at the time. She was going to stay to help, but we had a lead that couldn’t wait. One of us had to go. And when I’m done here, we’ll be together again. Forever, this time.”

I couldn’t help the smile on my face. “But- could you do it? Get rid of the Taint?”

“There was a woman- Grand Enchanter Fiona- who was formerly a Warden, but had it drawn out of her, somehow. And a creepy old man named Avernus, who managed to extend his lifespan far beyond what should have been possible.”

“Avernus… that name sounds familiar.”

“He was a mage during the Storm Age. We found him- alive- during the Blight. It’s complicated. There was blood magic and demons involved.”

I made a mental note to look into the man later.

“Fiona currently resides in Skyhold Village, if you’d like to meet with her. And Dorian has some experience prolonging the lifespan of those with Blight sickness. I’m certain he’d be more than willing to share his research with you- especially if you lay on the compliments and generally acknowledge his superiority.”

His laughter was cut short by the arrival of Hawke and the rest of the party.

  
  
  


_ A letter from the Inquisitor to Commander Cullen _

Cullen,

Leliana’s hunch about something being wrong with the Wardens is correct. Something very wrong is going on and it has to do with Corypheus. Hawke’s Warden ally will be traveling with us back to Skyhold in the morning, so he will pass on the information himself upon arrival. In the meantime, send scouts-  _ very discreetly _ \- to the Western Approach, and mark your calendar- we will be there ourselves during Harvestmere.

Speaking of which… It's  _ Alistair _ , one of the Wardens who helped stop the Blight, and husband to the Hero of Ferelden herself. I will not lie, I find myself a little starstruck. He tells me you two were friends, back in your trainee days. Please tell me you have stories!

I can’t wait to be back. Since Leliana’s people have arrived, we’ve been able to sleep in real beds, but the ones they have here are lacking something important to mine: you. Dorian is looking over my shoulder, so I shall refrain from saying precisely what I’d be doing to you there, and shall leave it to your imagination.

All my love,

Sasha

P.S. Please inform Josephine that Warden Constable Alistair is to have fresh peaches delivered to his quarters every morning, and, if possible, a painting of a bunny over his bed. I’ll tell you about it later.

  
  
  


We only had a short amount of time to rest and prepare for the peace talks, and as much as I had come to adore my friend and diplomat, Josephine was driving me fuckin’ crazy.

Etiquette lessons with too much cutlery. Dancing lessons nitpicked. That god-awful red jacket. And somehow, she expected me to be Benedict Cumberbatch’s  _ Sherlock _ in order to play the Grand Game. (Which would have been impossible for me to pull off, even if it hadn’t missed the last two seasons of the show.)

My only respite was my new quarters, which she gleefully showed me after the “welcome home” War Table meeting with Hawke and Alistair. Sweaty and hot still from the ride back to the fortress, I immediately began to strip layers off upon hearing the  _ click _ of the door behind Josie as she left. 

To the left of my bed was a small room that contained something that I never thought I’d see again: essentially, indoor plumbing. A tank installed in the rafters of the tower collected water from the roof when it rained, and with the pull of a chain, I could fill a small bathtub with clean, fresh water. It wasn’t heated, but all I had to do to rectify that was drop a runestone into the water and wait until it was the temperature I wanted.

Simple, but a thing of beauty.

It didn’t take too long for the water to be just this side of scalding, the way I like it, and I stood in the tub, pouring pitchers of the heated liquid over myself, contemplating potential improvements upon the design to create a shower.

I was dragged out of my wandering thoughts by the addition of a cool breeze across my back, making me shiver, and looked over my shoulder to see the door ajar and a large blond man with hungry eyes leaning against the jamb, arms crossed.

“Like what you see?” I teased, shaking my bum at him. 

That thin scar on his lip pulled taught as he smiled. “Always.”

  
  
  
  


“ _ One _ , two,  _ three _ , four, step-turn-step-bow.”

It was my last dance lesson- tomorrow we’d set out to Halamshiral- and although practice had been doing well, we still had to deal with the peanut gallery. Vivienne’s voice rang out over the jeers and catcalls of Hawke, Alistair, and Varric, who sat off to the side of Solas’ rotunda, our designated practice space.

“Bull, try not to land on Sera next time you hop, I don’t think the servants could ever get the stain off the floor.”

“Hey, Seeker,  _ smile! _ With a face like that, you might be mistaken for Corypheus.”

“Never thought I’d see a demon dancing outside the Fade!”

“Oi, Cullen-”

“Right, that’s it,” I finally lost my patience. “The three of you, over here! If all you can do is make fun, then you’ll be made to participate.”

Three sheepish faces grinned at me, but nobody moved. I nodded at Bull.

“Bull, if you don’t mind-”

The large Qunari grinned and started towards the trio. To his credit, Alistair stood up and made his way to the center of the room, hands up in surrender.

“Apologies, Lady Inquisitor. What would you have me do?”

I looked to Vivienne, who whispered to Maryden beside her. The minstrel strummed an upbeat tempo, one we had been using for a dance called the  _ Allemande _ . I held out my hand and raised an eyebrow. I expected the Warden to try to back out, but to my surprise, his face broke out in a smug lopsided grin and he stepped up to dance.

Step-ball-step, step-ball-step, lift arms, twirl underneath. The man had the moves right, to my shock. I felt a bit like an asshole, as I figured it would be a relatively quick way to embarrass him into silence rather than be drawn into a battle of quips with the three of them.

The music wound down, and we bowed. Seeing the question on my face, I’m certain, Alistair smirked and told me, “You learn a thing or two, as a royal bastard. In Ferelden, we call that the Remigold.”


	19. Malica

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. I posted the last chapter and then life hit hard... and of course, I didn't notice that I'd posted a duplicate. My bad!
> 
> Life has sort of gone bananas for me, so I will likely have to put this on the back burner for a few months. I PROMISE it will get finished. I have all sorts of plans for how this story will end up, but it will be delayed. I am toying with the idea of "finishing" this part of the story early on a cliffhanger and starting on the rest of it in a second story as part of an "Illume" collection.
> 
> In the meantime, this is part one out of three (I think? Gotta double-check my chapters again so I don't accidentally duplicate another chapter) and I will DEFINITELY be getting all of these posted while I have the time this week.

We arrived in Halamshiral a day before the masquerade, by design. It wouldn’t do for the Inquisition to arrive filthy and tired from the road, after all, and we had the pleasure of staying with the Marquis DuRellion. The man was much more agreeable than he’d been in Haven, especially since we’d sent a number of Inquisition soldiers to help build a memorial to the fallen. Vivienne and the marchioness organized a spa day with a horde of rampaging masseuses, hairdressers, and stylists, and every last one of us was made to submit, save Cole, who abandoned us as he zapped into thin air. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face as I heard snatches of Sera hollering or Cassandra grumping.

As for me, I enjoyed some of it, and tolerated the rest. I found out that, for those who can afford it, there  _ is _ very good red hair dye in Thedas. The massage was heavenly, working out kinks and aches I had actually managed to get used to, and I floated through the rest of the day’s beauty regiment and dinner before landing in bed with my beau.

I could have done without the rashvine facial, though.

None of us could argue with the results, though: Every one of us, even Bull,  _ glowed _ with health, the most surreal, beautiful versions of ourselves, and it was a damn shame we were about to waste it by walking into the lion’s den.

“It is a great pleasure to meet you, Inquisitor.”

It was a silky-smooth voice that greeted me, and it left behind a trail of goo, much like a slug. I felt as if I needed a shower as the Grand Duke congratulated me on apparently stomping the mage rebellion into dust and pressing them into service.

“Imagine what the Inquisition could accomplish with the full support of the rightful Emperor of Orlais.”

“Oh? And which one is that? I keep getting everyone mixed up.”

“The handsome, charming one, of course, my lady.”

Yup. Definitely going to need a bath after this.

The group spread out to mingle. I overheard some embarrassing gossip regarding someone’s (ahem) sex life; across the garden, I saw Cole poking around a fountain before running up to a noblewoman. Sera “found” some odd coins (meaning: she pickpocketed them) and gave them to me, since she figured she couldn’t actually spend them on booze. And Dorian found a couple of small die-cast silver statues of halla with lyrium-embedded runes on the bottom; he told me they were important and I should keep them on me, and left me confused and cluelessly clutching the start to my tiny herd.

A bell began to clang; all around me, prissy nobles began moving en masse towards the front door. I followed, only to be stopped by Josephine.

“I must simply remind you that the Game-”

“-Is like Wicked Grace played to the death. I remember, and I’ll keep my guard up. But, hey, maybe remind Sera?”

Josephine gave a nervous chuckle. “Of course, Inquisitor.”

I turned to walk in, but I managed to catch her murmured prayer: “Andraste watch over us all.”

  
  
  


We were introduced, and although I was going to later kill Sera, it all went otherwise smoothly, and I didn’t embarrass myself or the organization. The Grand Duchess didn’t seem all that happy to see me, though, and I don’t think it had anything to do with the amount of wine ordered for the party.

Everybody spread out, and I wandered, mingling, eavesdropping, snacking whenever I passed a table of something delicious-looking. I hadn’t had much to eat between the beauty treatments, and I was  _ starving _ . At one point, Leliana gave me a vague warning about a dangerous apostate at court; I pressed her for details, but as usual, the spymaster was cryptic and grimly vague.

The palace was gorgeous- beyond gorgeous, even. As a young teenager, I’d had the amazing opportunity to visit France, and the Winter Palace could definitely go toe-to-toe with the grand gilded palace at Versailles. But I kept noticing things, as I wandered: bits of rubbish here and there, dirty glasses and plates, and few servants. I had been informed that Halamshiral was a city made up mostly of elves, and that most of them worked at the palace. If that were so, where was everyone?

Something on a balcony caught my eye. At first, I thought it was more stray garbage, but something in the back of my mind made me look again. It turned out to be a small leather tube, stuck in the dirt of a pot of flowers, with a small slip of parchment inside.

A list of people who had entered the servant’s quarters, and never left.

I wandered out to the garden, and was caught by-

“My lady! My lady Inquisitor!”

-Celene’s weirdo triplets.

“May we have a word? It is very important. The Empress has sent us with a message for you.”

“She has? --I mean, I am honored to hear from Her Majesty.”

“Oh, she is the honored one, Inquisitor!”

It was creepy. They looked the same, dressed the same, and almost even sounded the same- the same voice, in different timbres. 

“Empress Celene is eager to assist the Herald of Andraste in her holy endeavor.”

(I managed to keep from grimacing at the unwanted title.)

“She will pledge her full support to the Inquisition as soon as the usurper Gaspard is defeated.”

Ah, there it was. Get rid of Gaspard, get Orlais on our side.

“That is generous of Her Majesty.”

“The Empress believes wholeheartedly that the Inquisition is our best hope for peace in these difficult times. She looks forward to cementing a formal alliance. As soon as Gaspard is out of the way. But we have taken enough of your time. Please, enjoy the masquerade, Inquisitor.”

With that, the Wonder Triplets dropped into a curtsey as one, and floated away- identically, of course.

I watched them go, hoping my bemusement didn’t show on my face, and catching Dorian’s grin from across the garden, I snagged two glasses of wine from a nearby tray, making my way to the altus.

“This is all so familiar. I half my mother to materialize from the crowd and criticize my manners.”

I chuckled. “What if she were actually here?”

“You’d be short one mage, after he’s dragged out by his earlobe.”

My chuckle turned into a full laugh. “I don’t think I could see that happening.”

“Picture me a young boy of five years, then. She certainly always has.”

I gave him a sympathetic grin as I handed him one of the glasses. “Have you seen anything suspicious?”

He lowered his voice. “No, but I do believe I heard something- up there.” 

I looked where his eyes pointed. There was a balcony, and part of the railing was broken off, right above some latticing…

“Could you provide a distraction, Dorian?” I slammed the rest of the wine back, and the mage took my empty glass, grinning at me.

“It would be my pleasure.”

He gave me a few moments to wander back to the fountain, before-

“ _ Maker! _ My train, it is on fire!”

Every head swiveled towards the sound of the screaming, and nobody seemed to notice the Inquisitor scrambling up the wall like a flatfooted spider.

  
  
  
  


“Well, well, what have we here?”

I couldn’t help the grin that jumped to my face, so I took a moment to stare at the door to cool it.  _ I know that voice. I know that voice  _ **_very well._ **

Lady M., from the note in the office upstairs. No wonder Leliana was so cautious, so much more reserved than normal.

“The leader of the new Inquisition, fabled Herald of faith. Delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of the Blessed Andraste herself.”

I couldn’t help the amused grin that pulled at my features, but I did manage to squash it enough that I (hopefully) didn’t look like a maniac, only letting one corner of my face be pulled up in an all-knowing sort of grin.

“What could bring such an exalted creature here to the Imperial Court, I wonder? Do even  _ you  _ know?”

“Well, I did hear the Empress throws a fabulous party, and that has proven true so far.”

“So true that you ventured further into the palace, seeking more entertainment?” Her voice was light- or as light as Morrigan’s could be.

“What can I say? I do enjoy Orlesian decor. It’s so wonderfully colorful.”

With that, she threw her head back and laughed. “You are being coy. I am Morrigan. Some call me advisor to Empress Celene on matters of the arcane.”

We did the old walk-and-talk, and I noticed I was being escorted back to the ballroom.

“You have been very busy this evening, hunting in every dark corner of the palace. Perhaps you and I hunt the same prey?”

“If it’s those tiny crabmeat souffles, then you may be right.”

The tiniest smirk played upon the apostate’s lips as she stopped and stared at me. I kept my all-knowing grin in place, and after a long moment, she pressed a key into my hand.

“There may be more of those souffles in the servant’s quarters.” Her voice quieted as she continued. “Beware, however: the Tevinter agent I killed earlier may have eaten them before I arrived. Proceed with caution. Enemies abound, Inquisitor- and not all of them aligned with Tevinter. What comes next will be most exciting.”

With that, Lady Morrigan swept off, and the second bell rang, signaling me as fashionably late.

  
  


“You must dance with me, Commander! You cannot stand about all evening!”

“I’m afraid n- did you just-  _ grab my bottom? _ ”

“I couldn’t help myself!”

Alright, that was it. Discomfort at all the attention was one thing, but these Orlesian creeps were now assaulting my commander- my lover- and that wouldn’t stand. I couldn’t do anything to admonish them, but I could step in.

“Commander.” 

He perked up expectantly at my voice. “Inquisitor! Do you need something?”

“Yes,” I stated just a bit louder than normal. “I have something that requires your attention immediately. Please come with me.”

To the groans of his audience, Cullen extricated himself and we walked purposefully out of the ballroom.

“Is something the matter? Has one of the soldiers-”

“It’s nothing bad, Commander. Don’t worry. You’ll see when we get there.”

“There” being the first empty room I saw, some sort of small library, but it had a door, and that door had a key, which I turned to lock.

“Sasha, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I promise.” I turned to stand in front of him and took his gloved hand in mine. “I… felt the need to rescue you from your handsy admirers. If it were me in that situation, I would not have dealt well.”

He chuckled and turned his hand to grasp mine, bringing it to his lips. “My hero, lady Inquisitor.”

“And if you like, I think I could easily talk Sera into stealing all their smallclothes.”

His chuckle was louder, and my heart did a little flip at that beautiful smile of his.

“Perhaps we should save that for our last-ditch efforts, although now I shall have the fuel necessary to give them the smile they so crave.”


	20. Pli Malica

I’ve never really gotten used to the sight of freshly murdered people, be they human, elves, or dwarves. 

“Someone will be held accountable for this,” Cassandra assured me as she held my hair back while I emptied the contents of my stomach in a corner of the storeroom. I finished, and Varric handed me his hip flask to clear my mouth, and after we wrestled into armor hidden for us just outside the servant’s entrance and grabbed our weapons, away we went.

After finding a murdered Council of Heralds messenger- Phillippe, I presume- in the garden (the knife in his back proudly displaying the Chalons family crest), we were ambushed by the Venatori, because of course we fuckin’ were. I managed to get one with a throwing dagger before needing rescuing, and then we were moving again, into a building. The royal quarters- my roguish companions taking out enemies before they noticed us, thankfully. Up some stairs- Cole took out  _ more damn Venatori _ in a room at the top- and we noticed a door off to the side, surrounded by small cubbies, a label proclaiming: “THE ROYAL VAULT.”

Dorian snorted. “Well, that’s helpful.”

I tried the door; it wouldn’t budge. The mage looked closer at an empty cubby. “Sasha, where are those statuettes I handed you?”

“I pawned them off on Bull.”

The Qunari pulled one out of a side pocket of his gambeson. “Here. They poke, by the way.” He handed it to Dorian, who rubbed his thumb over the bottom of the statue, then placed it  _ just so _ in the cubby. A small click indicated it had unlocked.

The room was small, so I went in by myself, waving off an entourage when I saw it was empty. It was a storeroom of sorts, filled with paintings covered in cloth and jewelry armoires. One was open, and I took a peek out of curiosity- it was crammed full of precious metals and jewels, no costume jewelry here at all.

I turned back to my companions, and stepped on something small. I picked it up and took a good look at it. It was an oval-shaped locket, and had an etching of a tree in the middle; if it were Earth, I would call it the Norse Tree of Life, but obviously that wasn’t what that was here.

“Hey, Solas? Take a look at this.”

I showed him the locket. “It’s Elven.” His eyebrows and his voice rose in surprise. Vivienne tisked from the doorway.

We set off, Dorian snagging the statue from its base.

  
  
  


Leaving the servant’s wing, my companions scattered, and I put myself back to rights as I headed to the ballroom. The last time I’d been propositioned that many times in a night was when I’d mistakenly wandered into a bar during a private swinger’s party.

Briala’s timing had been perfect: a Venatori spy had managed to slip away from us undetected, but she’d managed to nail the bastard with a knife to the throat. I asked her about the locket, and, surprisingly, she was rather open about it- or perhaps that was simply her mastery of the Game. Either way, she did admit it had been a lover’s gift to the Empress.

After talking some gentlemen into seeking war stories from Cullen, I found myself in Gaspard’s office. It seemed to me that living in a place where intrigue, spying, and assassinations were common, daily occurrences, a person would prefer to keep sensitive documents out of the home of the person they’re warring with, but thankfully I was wrong, as the Grand Duke’s office was practically overflowing with evidence to crimes the man had committed. If I could get something on Celene, perhaps the Inquisition could force them to work together for the good of Orlais, after securing this assassin under lock and key.

The romantic in me wondered if it were possible to reunite the elf and her lover. It was a sweet thought.

  
  
  


“We should take you dancing more often!”

Josephine’s pleased smile was adorable, and quickly interrupted by Leliana and Cullen’s approach.

“Were you  _ dancing _ with Duchess Florianne?”

“More importantly, what happened in the servants’ quarters? I heard there was fighting.”

“I hope you have good news,” Josie added in, nervousness creeping into her voice. “It appears the peace talks are crumbling.”

“The Grand Duchess confirmed it: it has to be Gaspard.” I said, quietly but bluntly.

“Florianne and her brother are thick as thieves, but she would give him up in an instant to save herself,” Leliana acknowledged.

“Then the attack  _ will _ happen tonight.”

“Warning Celene is pointless. She needs these talks to succeed, and to flee would admit defeat.”

“Then perhaps we should let her die.”

There it was. That’s the Leliana that terrifies me. Earlier, when she was talking to me about shoes, I could  _ almost _ believe she was mostly the same person my Warden ran around with during the Blight, but that nipped that in the bud.

“I’m listening,” I said, the discomfort I felt slipping into my voice.

“What Corypheus wants is chaos. Even with Celene alive, that could still happen. To foil his plan, the Empire must remain strong. This evening,  _ someone _ must emerge victorious.”

“And it doesn’t need to be Celene. She’s right.”

“Do you realize what you’re suggesting, Leliana?” Josephine hissed at the spymaster.

“Sometimes the best path is not the easiest one.”

“That one is a  _ last resort _ ,” I said, decisively. “I have no great love for the Empress, but Gaspard is a war-mongerer, and the moment the threat of Corypheus is neutralized he will point his chevaliers at Ferelden’s borders. We came here to save Celene.”

“Then you must not only save her life, but also her empire,” Leliana said, her voice harder than normal.

“I think I have enough blackmail on all three to force them to work together.” I patted my breast pocket, the folded stacks of paper rustling to illustrate my words.

  
  
  


One rescued elf, naked soldier, pissed off mercenary, Fade rift, and a scheming duchess later, we had all the pieces connected. Florianne, a devout player of the Game, convinced that Corypheus was going to hand the rulership of Thedas over to her when he supposedly became a god.

All this, just to one-up her brother.

I scrambled through the palace with my companions on my heels, bursting through a door to the ballroom in my still-bloody armor. From across the room, my three advisors noticed and ran; Cullen reached me first.

“Thank the Maker you’re back-”

“Cullen,  _ grab Florianne! _ She’s the assassin!”

The Commander sprang into action, signaling his men closest to the Empress. They started for Florianne as I wove my way through the crowd-

She must have seen the walls closing in.

Florianne lunged, sliding her dagger into Celene’s side. The Empress dropped without a word.

Chaos broke out. In the crowd, harlequins poofed out of thin air, stabbing nobility. Inquisition soldiers, palace guards, and Chevaliers rushed to stop them. In an impressive move for a woman with her entire torso corsetted, Florianne leaped off the balcony behind the late empress to the gardens below.

Somehow, I managed to get behind Bull as he barrelled through the crowd, out the ballroom, and down the stairs. As I heard the curses and footfalls of my companions behind me, I prayed to whatever gods were out there for another lightning strike, like in the Fallow Mire.

We hit the garden, bursting through the gate, and were ambushed by dozens of Venatori, literally jumping out of the topiaries and bushes.

It was hell.

The warriors stayed close to me, the weak link, and managed to keep me alive through the assault. I got a few with thrown daggers, thankful I’d been collecting them from dead enemies throughout the palace.

We were saved by soldiers- Gaspard’s foiled coup, it looked like- breaking down the gates and rushing in. As they cut down the last of the bastards, my heart sank: Florianne got away.

“Find her!” I croaked at a nearby group of soldiers. “The Grand Duchess! Find her! She’s the assassin!” A soldier- a lieutenant, looked like- began shouting orders in Orlesian and the soldiers scattered to follow her commands.

I hunched over the staircase railing. Despite being ringed by my companions, one of the ‘Vints had managed to get a hit in, shredding my gambeson and breaking a couple ribs, but thankfully not cutting too deeply.

Blackwall got to me first, hefting my arm over his shoulder helping me up the stairs; at that moment, I didn’t care that he wasn’t a Warden, only that he was there, and I resolved to sit down with the man and have a conversation with him about it.

There was still fighting going on in the ballroom; as we were told, Blackwall left me hanging off Dorian while the warriors, Varric, and Cole joined in. Sera, being out of arrows, took a couple of extra daggers off me and went looking for any servants left living, while Solas went looking for any healing or lyrium potions that could be had- we’d gone through our stash like water during the fight- and the mages were all but out of mana, and couldn’t afford to expend any more until they had more.

That left Vivienne and Dorian to help me get out of my wrecked gambeson, my destroyed formal jacket, and wrap a bandage (after cleaning the wound with a glass of brandy someone had set aside earlier) made from strips of a cloth thrown over a painting in the storage closet we holed up in over my undershirt.

  
  
  


“Did you not take  _ even just a few minutes _ to take notice of what Florianne was up to?!”

Inquisition soldiers had found us holed up in a closet after the fighting was done, and we were put in the guest quarters. I’d been given a small healing drought- there were others significantly more injured than I, and I gladly let them get first dibs on the bigger, better stuff as well as the attention of the mages- so my ribs were set and partially healed, but they still hurt like hell. Just enough to piss me right off.

I’d summoned Gaspard and Briala to the room I’d been put in, and I’ll be damned if I wasn’t important enough that they both came, and so that’s who I railed at.

The night was an utter failure; the Empress- along with several important nobles- were dead. The person responsible got away. The cherry on top was that Gaspard had started whining at me about it as soon as he entered the room, and  _ I wasn’t having it. _

“ _ You _ , as her closest family, were to take notice if she started acting oddly. That’s what family does! They  _ look out _ for each other, perhaps not to make sure they haven’t been corrupted by ancient darkspawn, of course, but  _ certainly _ if you’d noticed anything, you could have had it investigated!”

I clutched the back of a winged chair, still trying to keep my feet.

“But you were too busy waging war to take notice of much else around you, let alone a conspiracy being set up by your sister. So: I have the word of your mercenary captain, and a stack of papers in your hand implicating you in various treasonous crimes.”

At this, the parts of Gaspard’s face not hidden by the mask started getting red. I kept going.

“Puppet, meet puppetmaster. You will be the Emperor, and Briala will be the hand that guides you.”

At this, Gaspard sputtered. “How dare y-”

“Who’s in line after Florianne, Your Majesty?” I asked, mockingly.

That took the wind out of his sails, and he deflated, and nodded quietly.

Briala, to her credit, kept the smugness from her face as we all walked to inform the nobility.

  
  


So much happened after that speech, and nothing at all. Vivienne, fresh with a lyrium potion, healed me properly, and although I would have a scar, it no longer hurt to breathe. A servant found me a knee-length silk tunic in a similar shade of red to the formal jackets, and the blood was wiped from my face and hair before I was passed from noble to noble, hearing their fears, their sorrows, their congratulations.

Dawn was breaking as I managed to get away, and I found myself on a deserted balcony, bracing my exhausted self against the railing.

“Here at last I find our absent hero, hidden away despite the efforts of all of Orlais to find you.” Morrigan seemed to materialize out of thin air. I wondered briefly if that were a new trick she’d picked up. “The elves raise glasses in your honor while the newly crowned emperor glowers. ‘Tis quite the spectacle.”

“That’s what I do. Fall out of the sky, make bad decisions, and somehow everyone still follows me.”

“So they do. It seems I am also to join that esteemed crowd. By Imperial decree, I have been named liaison to the Inquisition. Gaspard wishes to offer any and all aid to the one who supported his ascent to the throne. So here I am.”

I wondered briefly if this were an attempt for Gaspard to get his former rival’s people away from him, and if Celene would also offer Morrigan up to assist. Regardless-

“Welcome to the Inquisition, Morrigan. I am very happy to have you on the team.” I meant it, truly, and I hope it showed.

“A most gracious response. I shall meet you at Skyhold.”

And with that, she swept away.


	21. Ne Tre Maltaŭga

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally longer... but I'll be honest, much of it sucked. Hopefully, it sucks less, having been on the chopping block. Just a little taste of fluff.

I took a few moments to myself, taking deep, steadying breaths- and then I ran. Not literally, but I booked it out of the ballroom, likely angering whichever nobles had yet to corner me. I didn’t care. I’d buy Josephine some flowers later, and likely end up writing more than a few letters to make my excuses for my rudeness. But I couldn’t do it anymore.

Someone had drawn a bath in my quarters in front of the fireplace, and I stripped as quickly as my shaking fingers would allow, peeling the remains of the bloody bandage from earlier off my skin before sinking into the tub. The moment I began to relax in the hot water, I broke.

That’s how Cullen found me- ragged, blood-soaked hair falling down around my shoulders, makeup and even more blood streaked across my cheeks, smearing with my tears. The bathwater, clean and fresh and scented with lilies and roses, slowly turning pinkish-brown from it all.

With all the gentleness I had come to expect from this man, he scrubbed the filth from my skin, and he washed my hair. He pulled me from the water and dried me, and rubbed sweet-smelling oils into my skin and hair. And then he dressed me in a silken chemise, wrapped a shawl around my shoulders and put woolen socks on my feet, and put me to bed.

I awoke when he came to bed himself, a short while later, clean and damp, and gathered me in his arms, and I felt safe again.

I woke up, a scream unvoiced sitting in the back of my throat, sweating, but not from heat. I wriggled out of Cullen’s arms, yanked off the socks, and, losing the shawl along the way, stumble across the room to the full-length mirror in the corner. I grasped the gilded piece with both hands, thankful it was on a sturdy base, and stared at my reflection.

My eyes were blue. Thank the gods, they were blue. Not red, not turning black as I watched them. It had, of course, been nothing but a nightmare.

My knees gave out, and I slid to them, my fall held back by my grasp on the mirror’s edge. And then I was enveloped from behind from strong arms, with Cullen’s breath against my neck as I sat there, on my knees, trying not to break.

“Bad dream?” He said, his voice quiet. I nodded.

“Want to tell me about it? It might help.”

I thought for a moment, then shook my head.

“Make me forget.”

I couldn’t tell if the golden eyes staring into mine through the mirror were full of pity or understanding- looking back and knowing what I now know, probably a mixture of the two- and I felt myself being gently scooped up and carried back to bed.

  
  
  
  


Everyone was given the day to rest the morning after the masquerade; everyone needed it. Cullen and I stayed in bed, only leaving it to take care of bodily functions and to eat the meals brought by smiling elven servants.

But, of course, there’s only so much time a person can  _ sleep. _

By the dawn of the morning after, the assassination was all but forgotten, the horror of it having been soothed away with kisses, caresses, and moans. Meetings were scheduled for the four of us- myself and my advisors- to assist with the transfer of power to Gaspard- and to iron out the details of just how “involved” Briala would be. To that end, we were all to dress in the red jackets again-  _ thankfully _ Josephine had ordered extras for each of us, assuming correctly that they would be necessary.

That was one of many times I was annoyed by the competence of my chief diplomat.

I had just finished plaiting back my hair- I was not comfortable “borrowing” one of Celene’s ladies’ maids for the job- as Cullen finished putting the final touches on his costume.

“You know,” he said, “you disappeared so quickly after the ball, I didn’t get the chance to do this, so I’d like to take the time now, while we have it…”

I turned, and he bowed low, holding out his hand to me. I sucked in a breath.

He was  _ so very handsome. _

“May I have this dance, my lady?”

“My god, you look like a Disney prince.”

“I… shall take that as a compliment.”

“Good, because it was,” I told him as I took his hand, and he pulled me close, and we twirled, and it was the most romantic moment I’d ever experienced.


End file.
